


A Little Less Sixteen Candles

by osaki_nana_707



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Inception Big Bang Challenge, M/M, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:10:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 57,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osaki_nana_707/pseuds/osaki_nana_707
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Link to art master post: http://heavenly-rain.livejournal.com/469101.html  
> special thanks to redxluna for betaing!  
> lyrics present in this fic include - A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me by Fall Out Boy (title); The Hill by Marketa Irglova from the movie Once; I Can't Make You Love Me by Bonnie Raitt (though I was listening to the cover by Bon Iver); Come Together by The Beatles; King and Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men

**A Little Less Sixteen Candles**

Chapter 1

Arthur crouched down close to the wall, blending in almost seamlessly in the darkness. He pressed his fingertips to his communication device on his wrist and whispered into it, "I'm in."

The sound piece in his ear whistled a little with the sound of his partner, Nash, saying, "You're good."

Arthur honestly wasn't too happy to be working with Nash. Despite a few lucky breaks, the man could show a ridiculous amount of incompetence from time to time, and Arthur, despite only being twenty-two had a flawless record. That was why he was one of the top agents around. Most people his age hadn't even gotten involved in the business yet, much less been promised a job as big as this one.

Arthur was currently sneaking through Cobol Engineering's main building, after having infiltrated it as a co-worker two months ago. Rumor had it that Cobol's business was a front for one of the largest criminal rings in the world, and Arthur was just inches from cracking the case wide open.

He had doubtfully been the first choice when he'd first joined up with the agency, given he had only been eighteen at the time and had a baby face that didn't convince anyone he was even that old. Still, Arthur had shown startling proficiency from day one. He was pretty sure the way everyone underestimated him had just made him work that much harder, but their opinions didn't matter anyway. Even though he still had that baby face, no one questioned his skills now. He not only had completed every mission he'd been sent on, he'd never even been injured in the process. Perhaps Nash was incompetent, but Arthur was pretty sure his own competency could make up for it. It was the only reason why he'd taken on the job in the first place.

Arthur approached the office at the end of the hall, the only one with a light on in the entire building, and pressed his listening device against the door. He adjusted his sound system to try and reach the right frequency and grinned when he discovered it.

This was easy.

Honestly, it was easier than it should have been.

Arthur focused on the voice speaking, trying to gather anything pertinent. This man didn't appear to be talking about anything important at that exact moment, but one thing immediately threw Arthur off.

This man was not anyone Arthur had come across during his time at the company. He didn't recognize the voice from any of the people working there or from any of the phone calls he'd listened to after tapping the phone lines. Arthur's brow furrowed and he listened more closely, trying to figure out if he was mistaken, but he was positive he didn't recognize this older, rough voice.

This could be big, Arthur thought, if he could see the man's face. This could be the head of the crime ring maybe.

"…is probably Saito's doing," the voice said. "He's trying to sell us down the river. If this gets to the public—"

Arthur's eyes widened as he felt the cold steel of the barrel of a gun press against the back of his skull.

 _Shit_.

Arthur didn't even take the time to turn around and look at the man bearing down on him, instead choosing to knock the man's legs out from under him and slam him into the ground before taking the gun. The loud thump of the man hitting the floor of course alerted the men inside the office to Arthur's presence, so he grabbed his listening device and bolted for the exit just as the door swung open. Arthur ventured a quick look back and caught a blur of gray hair, but it was all he had time to see before he was turning the corner to find an elevator full of security.

Arthur kicked open the door to the stairwell and took them down two at a time, all the while dodging bullets whizzing by him. It was honestly nothing short of a miracle that he wasn't hit by one of them. Arthur swung a corner and aimed his gun, killing three of his pursuers before taking to running again, firing behind him whenever he had the opportunity.

Somehow, someway, he escaped the building, and just as they were about to blast him, he dove into the river. As he swam deeper into the water to avoid their detection, he dug blindly in his bag until he found his oxygen mask. It was hooked to a small container of air and wouldn't last very long, but it would keep him underwater long enough to get away. He placed it over his mouth and started to swim. He didn't stop until the water was so dark that he couldn't see.

Arthur broke the surface and took a few gasps of air and then lifted his communication device to his mouth. "This is Arthur. My cover is blown. Nash, status."

There was a fizzle of white noise, but other than that it was silent.

"Nash?" Arthur called again, still a little breathless.

Nothing.

"Shit."

* * *

When Arthur awoke, he gasped. "Jesus!"

Dominic Cobb, his boss, was hovering over him on the bed, squinting as if he was standing in the sun, just like usual. "Good to see you're in one piece," Cobb said.

Arthur sat up, rubbing his face with his hand. He hadn't been out long. The light from the window of his cheap motel room was still dim, signaling the first dregs of dawn, and Arthur's hair was still damp from the dip in the river.

The look on Cobb's face was grim, and Arthur couldn't help but look around to make sure they weren't surrounded by Cobol's security goons.

After a moment, his sleep-addled brain registered what Cobb had said. "I take it the same can't be said of Nash then."

"Dead," Cobb said. "Burned to death. The whole building went up in flames."

"Unfortunate," Arthur said. "Fuck…"

Arthur knew what that meant. It meant Cobol had been onto them from the beginning. Somehow.

"So what now?" Arthur asked, crawling off the bed.

"Someone saw your face last night," Cobb explained, leaning against a side table. "They've already got a bounty out on your head for enough money it makes my head spin."

"Well," Arthur said, swallowing down the vile taste of disappointment in himself, "that's not good."

"No, it's not," Cobb sighed. "You know what comes next, don't you?"

"You're relocating me."

Arthur had to fight not to wince at those words. He'd never had to drop off the radar before. This was humiliating.

Cobb nodded. "I'm sending you off to a secure location where you can hide out until the fire dies down."

"You think that choice of words might be a little disrespectful to Nash?" Arthur responded flatly, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

Cobb leveled him with a glare, and Arthur shrugged it off. "So, where am I going? What role am I going to have to play until it's safe for me to come back?"

Cobb nodded, handing over a yellow envelope. "Your plane tickets and all the information you'll need is in this packet. All of the things you'll need have already been shipped off to the location. It's not safe to talk about it here. We don't know if the walls have ears."

Arthur groaned but only inside his head. "Yes, sir," he mumbled. "Is there any way I can contact you during this?"

"The number is also in the packet, but you'd best only use it for emergencies. It's my personal line."

Arthur stared at him with a bit of surprise. It showed a lot of loyalty from Cobb to give him his personal number rather than a secret mobile phone number. Cobb seemed to notice Arthur's shock and added, "Arthur, this isn't your fault. The mission was doomed from the start. I'm just grateful you aren't hurt. You're the best we've got, and you know that. Please, trust me when I tell you that this is only on behalf of your safety."

Arthur sighed, running a hand over his hair. "I trust you, Cobb."

Cobb nodded. "Your plane leaves in half an hour. Call me when you land so I know you're safe.

There'll be a car to pick you up at the airport. Oh—" he paused to reach into his pocket and retrieved a pair of scissors, "and you'll need these."

Arthur blinked. "Why?"

"Read the file on the plane."

Cobb left.

* * *

"You'd better be fucking joking, Dominic Cobb," Arthur growled into his cell phone as he perched over the sink in the airplane bathroom.

"I told you to only call me in an emergency," Cobb said, voice fuzzy over the line.

"This isn't an emergency, this is a _travesty_ ," Arthur responded. "Do you honestly expect me to do this? Did you look at this file?"

"Of course I looked at the file, Arthur. I put it together. I thought it was the safest place to put you. No one will suspect you of anything—"

"You enrolled me in a boarding school in Connecticut?" Arthur hissed into the phone, trying to keep his voice low even though he wanted to yell (and beat things—especially Cobb). "I'm twenty-two, Cobb!"

"I know that," Cobb said. "Calm down. This is what playing the part is all about. You're lucky enough to have a young looking face, so you can look the part. No one will be looking for a special agent in a boarding school."

"But it's… it's _degrading_! Cobb, do you know how hard I had to work to get people to look past my face? I'm far too skilled to spend my time idling away in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of teenagers—"

"Arthur," Cobb interrupted sternly, "this isn't about your pride, all right? This is about your _life_ , and it's what I've assigned for you, so cut your hair, lay low, and in a few months I'll come get you. I don't want to hear anything else about it, got it?"

A muscle jumped in Arthur's jaw, and he fought back the urge to spit out another biting comment. "Yes, sir," he grumbled.

Cobb hung up without a goodbye, and Arthur shoved his phone back into his pocket before leaning over the sink and pulling out the scissors Cobb had supplied him with. He wet his hair under the tap and started to chop it off.

By the time the plane had landed, he had a set of floppy bangs parted just slightly to the right and a scowl that kept people out of his way.

He did pause to get a bag from the carousel, one he himself packed and brought along that was full of his gadgets (one could never be too careful), and then he called Cobb again. "I made it to the airport, _dad_ ," Arthur spat.

"The car is waiting for you outside. The black BMW."

"Thanks," Arthur grumbled. "I still can't believe you're making me do this."

"It won't be too bad, Arthur. Just consider it a vacation."

"Going to school isn't exactly what I'd consider a vacation, Cobb… and you've even put me in Honors classes. What the hell?"

"Oh, come on, Arthur, you're a smart guy. Those classes should be a breeze for you."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're almost amused by this," Arthur responded, eyes narrowing.

"I'm not happy that I have to send you off," Cobb replied, "but so far your reaction has been interesting. I figured you'd take this as another opportunity to prove yourself. You've shown me your information gathering skills, now show me what a good actor you are."

Arthur sighed through his nose, knowing that Cobb was playing at his pride (and succeeding). "Well, it's not like I have much of a choice now, do I?"

"Not really."

Arthur sighed again. "I'll call you again if there are any problems." He hung up and crawled into the back seat of the car, finding a bag with a pair of glasses and a school uniform inside of it. Arthur momentarily thought about shooting himself in the head.

Instead, he stripped out of the hooded sweatshirt and jeans he had been wearing and changed into the khakis (ugh), overly starched white button-down (blegh), black tie and navy sweater vest (no), and worst of all a navy blazer with the school, Fischer-Morrow College Preparatory Academy, insignia on the breast pocket. Arthur put on the thick rimmed glasses and caught his reflection in the glass of the tinted window.

Well, he looked the part, most definitely…

He was pretty sure he should have been proud of that, but he just felt humiliated.

He slid on his dark socks and loafers and sat back, staring at the roof of the car.

"Awesome," he said sarcastically.

* * *

A couple of hours passed and Arthur found himself looking out the window at the hilly, tree-dotted countryside, occasionally interrupted with a barn or patches of forest. It was lovely, and Arthur would almost find himself likely to enjoy it if it weren't for the circumstances. At the moment he just couldn't appreciate the peaceful pastoral view.

Arthur hadn't ever been too fond of sitting on his hands and waiting on something to happen. Perhaps it had been too many James Bond movies when he was little, but Arthur had always had a fondness for danger. He liked the way finding the right file or snippet of information made his heart beat faster, the feel of wind in his hair when he was going really fast, the rush of blood from an escape after being shot at. He loved the focus required to hack into a computer system. Most of all he adored the wave of pride that came over him when he showed just how thrillingly good he was at all of these things.

This wasn't his worst nightmare precisely, but a lot of the elements were there. He had hated school as a teenager, and he doubted it would be easier now. Maybe he wasn't as awkward as he was in his teens, but he didn't like the idea of hanging out with a bunch of dumb kids who had nothing to talk about except how miserable were. He also wasn't terribly fond of how loose the uniform was in spots, having grown used to his finely tailored clothes. The bangs he'd created for himself made his forehead itch too.

Probably the worst thing about it was the fact that he was going to have to obey a whole slew of authority figures he knew for a fact he was superior to. Cobb was the only one left on earth who could really tell him what to do, but apparently Arthur was now going to be the whipping boy of various "older" students, teachers, counselors, advisors, and the head of the school Peter Browning.

Again, Arthur considered shooting himself.

He didn't have time to think on it long though, because the car was turning onto a road that led to an iron gate that folded open as they drove through it. Arthur was suddenly finding himself looking at a courtyard full of young students, as young as fourteen to as old as eighteen, all scattered about—some with parents, some alone, all of them with suitcases of sorts and all of them in uniform. There was a smattering of faculty among them, introducing themselves and shaking hands, getting hugs from students who remembered them from the year before.

As Arthur got out of the car, dragging his bag along with him, he caught sight of the fountain, sporting a Trojan warrior statue at the top of it, as well as the school building behind it. It was a revamped building from what looked to be the twenties, and there were other, more modernized buildings attached that had clearly been built much later. Off to his left and right were other older buildings, obviously the dormitories for the students. They didn't look like they'd been remodeled as recently as the main building.

Arthur sighed, adjusting the ridiculous glasses he'd been provided with, and started towards the main building, hefting his bag over his shoulder. No one seemed to think he looked out of place, but he certainly felt it as he passed by shorter kids, more pimply kids, squeaky voiced _kids_. They were all _kids_. He couldn't believe someone hadn't immediately dragged him aside and asked him what the hell he was doing here as a grown man.

He was thinking that at least.

Arthur slipped into the dining hall undetected though, soon realizing that a lot of the kids were his height, some even taller, and he came to the conclusion that maybe he fit in just fine. Fuck, that made him feel like shit, but at least he wasn't blowing his cover for the second time in the last two days.

There were massive tables in the dining hall, each one marked with signs according to the grade, and Arthur discovered that there were place settings marked by each student's name in alphabetical order. Arthur found his spot fairly close to the front of the tenth grade table and picked up the packet with his fake name written on it.

 **Arthur Darving** , it said, almost mockingly. Inside the packet was a class schedule, a map of the grounds, a dormitory number and key, a key to a specific locker, and a list of events that would be taking place throughout the year. "Lovely," he mumbled, pushing his glasses up on his nose again.

Other kids were filing in by then, so Arthur took his seat and kept his eyes on the tabletop, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible. He took the time to take his dormitory and locker keys and slide it onto the chain he always kept around his neck for such things though, and by then he was crammed on each side by the other boys on the bench as everyone found their spots and the faculty took their place up on the stage. Arthur was feeling squished and surprisingly small on the bench, but he tried not to focus on it, instead gazing up at the faculty members, studying their faces so that he'd be able to keep track of who was who. He figured the information would be important, and Arthur was good at collecting and retaining info.

Then, suddenly, he felt like he was momentarily sucker punched.

A man was taking his seat amongst the teachers, and Arthur was bamboozled by just how fucking _gorgeous_ he was. Arthur had never had much time for dating and relationships in his line of work, but that hardly meant he didn't have a type that he fancied—and this man, a _Mr. Eames_ according to the nameplate in front of his seat, looked like he'd literally swaggered right out of Arthur's fantasies. He was built like a brick house but had soft looking lips and model's cheekbones, and while he could do with an update on the hair style and maybe tone down and tailor his suits a little more, he was pretty much the hottest thing Arthur had laid eyes on in a long time. He was particularly fond of the stubble on his chin and neck, wondering just how it would feel to scrub against his thighs.

Okay, _now_ probably wasn't the time to think about that, but later… later definitely.

He made some quick glances at the other staff, but by then the head of the school, Peter Browning if he remembered correctly, was standing and addressing the students. "Good morning," he said, smiling. "I'd like to welcome back all of you who attended Fischer-Morrow in the past, but I'd certainly like to extend a special welcome to our new students that are joining us this year. Welcome, welcome, welcome."

Arthur was almost immediately bored, but tried not let his gaze venture back over to this super-fine Mr. Eames who mockingly was rolling a toothpick around in his mouth. Arthur had to remind himself that he had more self-control than to get so easily distracted.

"I ask anyone who hasn't opened their packets yet to please do so," Browning continued. "You'll find your dorm room keys and numbers inside. All of the things sent beforehand should already be waiting there for you."

 _And I'm bored…_ Arthur thought, digging through his packet to find his schedule, scanning it to see if he at least had the joy of having Mr. Eames as a teacher. If he was going to be stuck posing as a student, he figured he should at least get to enjoy the scenery. He fought back the urge to fist pump when he discovered the man would be teaching his eleven a.m., advanced placement Psychology. Odds were good that he was the supervisor of one of the clubs Cobb had signed Arthur up for too.

"—We expect you to be kind, courteous, and respectful to your fellow classmates and to your superiors. We do not approve of tardiness."

 _Blah blah blah rules_ , Arthur thought. He kept his expression carefully stony of course, a learned technique of being a spy of sorts. Sure, when he was on the job he didn't have to practice his expression because he listened intently to whatever was going on, but all of this was just nonsense. This wasn't work. This was a hiding place. Arthur already knew the rules were going to be basically the same rules that existed at every other school that ever existed in the history of ever, so he didn't much give a damn.

"—and above all, have a good year. Go Trojans!"

With that the faculty got up and dispersed amongst the crowds of impatiently moving students. Arthur meandered for a moment or two, sliding his packet into the bag he'd brought with him before hefting it over his shoulder and heading out. He couldn't see Mr. Handsome Eames anymore anyways, so he headed off towards his dorm room.

Maybe this hideout wouldn't be so bad.

Arthur wasn't holding out hope for that, but the maybe existed at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 2

Once Arthur had escaped the crowds in the dining hall and started across the grounds towards his dorm room, he dug out his cell phone and called Cobb.

"Arthur, it's only been a few hours since—" Cobb started as soon as he answered, but Arthur interrupted.

"Cobb… can I just ask you one quick question?"

"Um."

"Why in God's name did you make me sixteen years old in this file? Why not eighteen? You know… something closer to my actual age? I feel like a fucking giant and an old one at that."

"You're just insecure about it. I'm sure you fit in just fine," Cobb said. "With those baggy clothes and haircut I bet you look just like those teenagers on TV."

Arthur actually stopped walking when Cobb said that because he was brought to the realization that Cobb, for all of his brilliance and skill in the field, all of his experience and worldly travels, he had absolutely no clue about what young people actually looked like. "Cobb…" he said slowly, and honestly he was embarrassed for the man even more than for himself, "Cobb, teenagers look like me on television because they're played by fucking twenty-two year olds."

There was a beat of silence between them, and then Cobb said, "Oh."

"Yeah," Arthur said.

"Well, I suppose there's really no way to go back on it now."

"No, I guess not," Arthur sighed. "I fucking hate you, Cobb."

"I'm sure you'll manage it somehow, Arthur. You're so talented."

"Don't try to butter me up. Just focus on getting that price off my head so that you can get me out of here."

Arthur hung up before Cobb could say anything else and crammed the phone back into his bag. From there he just focused on climbing the steps to the third floor of the underclassmen's dormitory and unlocking the door to room twelve.

There was a boy already inside, unpacking his things, and Arthur tried not to frown as he realized he most certainly was going to have to deal with a roommate. He knew Cobb had thrown this plan together in a few hours tops, but he really wished he could have at least gotten a single room. He approached anyway, holding out his hand. "Hi, uh, you must be my roommate for the semester. I'm Arthur."

The boy turned around, and Arthur took in his features: wild dark curls that stood high off of his head, browned skin and Middle Eastern features, bits of acne at the edges of his hairline and on his chin, well-made clothes though quirky in style, a little bit overweight, and sporting half-moon shaped glasses. "Hi," he said in an accent. "Yusuf. Nice to meet you. Hope you don't mind, but I've already kind of made my place."

Arthur shrugged, assuring him it was fine, and took a moment to look around the room. It wasn't terribly big, but it made fairly good use of its space. There was a bed on the left wall and another one on the right wall perched up high like a bunk bed but with a desk built in underneath it instead. It appeared Yusuf had laid claim to that. The back wall had another desk with stacks of text books clearly marked for either Yusuf or Arthur, and then next to that was a dresser and a closet. Arthur discovered a trunk at the foot of the bed on the left wall with his name engraved on it. Inside of it was a bunch of clothes, a laptop computer, school supplies, toiletries, pretty much anything he might need to live off of. Arthur took a few minutes to pull out his uniforms and anything else nice and hang them up before tossing his bag of weapons and such into the trunk (he of course didn't open the bag).

"So, is this your first year here?" Yusuf piped up suddenly, and Arthur looked up over the rim of his glasses to see the man hanging up a poster for a band called The Vaccines next to one for The Strokes and one of Albert Einstein.

"Uh… yeah," Arthur said. "Dad sent me here. I'm not too happy about it, but I'm dealing with the cards I'm dealt, you know?"

"Totally," Yusuf said, laughing. "It's a bloody drag, definitely, but you look like a smart bloke. You'll manage."

He put up a poster for The Smiths, and Arthur's eyes momentarily lit up over the fact that he actually recognized something. "You have good taste in music," he offered. "That's a relief." Arthur didn't really give a shit about music one way or the other, but the Smiths were highly more tolerable to him than the poppy garbage on the radio nowadays.

"Oh, good, then you won't mind me putting this up," Yusuf said, setting a rather impressive stereo on top of the dresser. "It surprises me how few people my age this glorious angst speaks to."

"It was actually pretty popular when I was in—" Arthur had to catch himself before he said _when I was in high school_. "—when I was in my old school. At least amongst my group of friends."

"Then we'll probably be good friends then," Yusuf said. "What's your favorite subject to study? I'm a chemistry buff myself, though I did get suspended from my middle school for a tiny explosion."

Arthur couldn't help but crack a smile. Yusuf was surprisingly less mopey and stupid than he expected of a teenager. "Oh, I don't know. I never really have been all that interested in school. I guess I don't have a favorite."

Yusuf shrugged. "Understandable," he said. "Let me take a look at your class schedule."

Arthur offered it up and sat down on his bed. While Yusuf was perusing it, Arthur said, "If you're going to be living with me, I only have one rule and that's to not go through my stuff, all right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, mate," Yusuf mumbled, not looking up from the two pieces of paper he held. "Oh, good, you and I share a couple of classes. We've got Psychology with Mr. Eames at eleven and French at two with a Ms. Miles."

Arthur honestly didn't give a damn if Yusuf was in any of his classes since this was all just a big waste of time, but he knew that if he had actually been a teenager he would have been pleased with the news, so he played along. "Awesome," he said. "Good to know I'll be able to have some help on my homework."

Yusuf laughed heartily. "Only if you'll grant me the same liberty. I've never been very good at languages, so if you expect help on your French you're on your own."

"Deal," Arthur said, reaching out to shake Yusuf's hand.

* * *

By the evening, Arthur had helped Yusuf put up posters over the entire room and had gotten all of their clothes and toiletries put away. Yusuf had brought a basket for shampoos and soaps, assuring Arthur that he would want to use it since they had to share the bathroom with all of the other boys on the floor. Arthur wasn't really happy to hear about that, but a quick survey of said bathroom and seeing that the showers were stalls with curtains made it a little easier.

After they were done setting up their room, Yusuf suggested they head down to the dining hall and grab some dinner, and by then Arthur was hungry enough to agree. As they crossed the grounds, Yusuf said, "I was here last year, and the food is actually not too bad. It's not extremely flavorful, but it's not terrible. It's no worries though since I brought bottles of hot sauce and spices and such. You can use them if you want."

Arthur had already decided he quite liked Yusuf. He appreciated how prepared he seemed to be for everything, a quality he tended to like in himself (and he probably would have been more prepared if he'd had more than a couple of hours to ready himself), and he didn't even mind how chatty Yusuf was because he actually talked about things Arthur gave a damn about. He didn't know if it would take him a long time to get sick of it, but for now it was just nice to have the company.

It also felt good to know that Yusuf didn't even question Arthur's age (though he did tease him about having a haircut from the nineties).

The dining hall was bustling with activity when they got inside, but it was thankfully not quite as crammed full of people as it had been earlier. The food was set up in a buffet style, so Arthur took his time carefully picking and choosing the things he liked. He was especially fond of the salad bar, which was where he spent most of his time. Yusuf seemed a bit more inclined to pile his plate high with whatever tickled his fancy.

"Ah," Yusuf said, laughing lightly. "You're one of those types that doesn't like his food to touch, are you? Live a little, Arthur."

Arthur wanted to tell Yusuf that he lived more than enough for the both of them, considering all of his worldly travels and… _worldly travels_ (sex), but of course he couldn't, so he shrugged instead and said, "I just like my things a certain way. There's nothing wrong with being particular."

"Suit yourself," Yusuf said, taking a seat at a table with his tray. Arthur sat next to him and started drizzling his dressing over his salad. He glanced up onto the stage to see Peter Browning having a conversation with a teenage boy with eyes so blue they seemed to go on forever and an older man with silvery hair and a mustache.

Something about that man…

"Who's that?" Arthur asked, cocking his chin in the direction of the three men.

Yusuf took a rather large bite of macaroni and cheese into his mouth. "Oh, uh, that's Maurice Fischer, the bloke who started this school. He retired as the dean a while ago to focus on his other business pursuits but gave the job over to Mr. Browning. The boy there is Maurice's son, Robert. He's a junior here, not a bad guy, but kind of quiet. I think people are intimidated by him because of his name. He doesn't really have any friends."

"What other businesses does this Maurice guy do?" Arthur asked, taking a bite of his salad. He wondered if Maurice's file had come across his desk at some point, if he'd had to protect his company or someone else's company from him. He couldn't place where he'd seen him before.

"I don't know," Yusuf shrugged. "Rich people businesses I guess. A regular Republican yuppie, most likely. If you want to know that, you'd have to ask Robert Fischer. Why? Are you looking into rubbing elbows and getting good work?"

Arthur watched them a few more moments and said softly, "It couldn't hurt."

He turned back to his food and listened while Yusuf started talking about how he hoped to have a future at Proctor and Gamble if things went as planned. Arthur was really only halfway paying attention to it, nodding and smiling at the right parts because he was a little preoccupied for two reasons. The first reason was because he was trying to remember where he'd seen Maurice Fischer before, and the second one was because Mr. Fucking-hot-as-hell-Eames had just walked in.

The man was dressed the same as before except now he was sporting a pair of light-framed rectangular glasses. He was studying what appeared to be a lesson plan, and Arthur was embarrassed for himself when he thought that he'd very much like to have Mr. Eames for dessert. He tore his eyes away only when Yusuf nudged his shoulder. "Arthur, hello, mate? Are you in there?"

"Sorry," Arthur said, "I guess I'm a little spacey."

"I'll say," Yusuf said, looking in the direction Arthur had been gazing, seeking out the source of his enrapt attention.

Arthur didn't want Yusuf to get the wrong idea, so he quickly tacked on, "I was on an early flight this morning, didn't sleep too well. That's probably why."

Yusuf shrugged and nodded and returned to his food, and Arthur was secretly relieved. He turned his eyes back to his own meal and was thankful Eames sat at a table with his back to Arthur so he wouldn't get distracted by that beautiful mouth again.

* * *

Seven A.M. came entirely too early for Arthur who was used to sleeping as late as he pleased (most missions tended to take place under cover of darkness, after all). He was tempted to dig his gun out of his trunk and shoot the alarm clock when it started to beep, but instead he just beat it into submission with his fist and crawled out from under the slightly overly starched sheets.

"Yusuf," he called out. "Come on, let's get a move on."

The boy stirred, lifting his head off of his pillow to show his curls spiraling out even more crazily than usual. His chin was supporting a dried line of drool. "I'm up, I'm up," he mumbled and thumped back onto the bed. Arthur ended up having to drag him out of bed and down the ladder.

Arthur grabbed the basket full of shampoos and soaps and shoved it into Yusuf's arms, then grabbed the towels and their clothes and led the way down the hall to the bathroom. It was already teeming with boys in various states of dress, and Arthur was immediately uncomfortable. He and Yusuf shoved their ways through the crowd until Arthur found an unoccupied corner to undress, tugging his t-shirt over his head and dropping his pajama pants and underwear around his ankles. He folded the pajamas up and put them in the bottom of the basket and then turned to find Yusuf staring at him in surprise.

"Uh," Arthur said.

"Sorry," Yusuf said, blushing in embarrassment. "No, I'm just—I guess I expected you to be scrawnier. You seemed so thin in your uniform."

Arthur shrugged. "I used to do sports and stuff at my old school." Arthur was glad that was all he had to explain. He was thankful he'd never been injured on the job, so he didn't have any gruesome scars to make up stories for.

"Sorry," Yusuf said again, undressing himself and following Arthur's lead by putting his pajamas in the bottom of the bucket. "I'm not a poofter, I swear."

"Do people here care about that kind of stuff?" Arthur asked, gathering his shampoo and conditioner to take into one of the stalls.

"You have no idea," Yusuf said, shaking his head. "If you look even a little… ah, how should I say… delicate? If you look even a bit delicate you're likely to get hazed."

"Really?" Arthur snorted, stunned. "I would have expected people to be more lax about something like that considering this is an all-boys school."

"What can I say?" Yusuf said. "You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone as cruel as a teenager. Sometimes you've just got to let it roll off of your shoulders."

Arthur glanced at Yusuf as he stepped into a stall. "Has anyone ever been mean to you?"

Yusuf shrugged, avoiding Arthur's gaze. "I was fatter last year than I am this year."

Arthur nodded, offering Yusuf a slightly sympathetic look and crawled into his stall to take a quick shower.

Arthur had never really been picked on much in high school if he could remember correctly, but that was partly because he spent more time skipping class than attending. His sexuality had never been an issue, no, but then again it had never been brought into question. Most people never really noticed Arthur existed when he was young because he moved so quietly and seamlessly through crowds. It was part of what made him such a good sleuth now. Things had just been easier when he was this impenetrable brick wall that no one could get close to.

He crawled out of the stall and dried himself off before wrapping his towel around his waist and taking a few minutes at the cramped, crowded sinks to shave and brush his teeth. Arthur did find it surprisingly easy to blend in with the boys there, despite the fact that he was older, but it helped that some of the boys were fucking _beasts_ —wide and tall and tough-looking. They gave off the impressions of future goons for crime rings that Arthur would take down. Or jocks. Whatever.

He did the best he could to be quick and to not make eye contact, and then he found Yusuf and his bucket and got himself dressed and out of the bathroom by seven-thirty.

"That," Yusuf said as they returned their bucket and pajamas to their room and headed off across campus with their book bags to get breakfast before class, "is one thing I most certainly did not miss about this place."

"Is it always crazy like that?" Arthur asked, wiping his glasses with his sweater vest.

"Usually. I took to bathing at night if I could get the chance last year. It may be a task I repeat."

Arthur took note of that and slipped inside the dining hall to grab a bite before his first class.

He was already missing his various apartments around the world, his private baths, and his kitchen.

* * *

Arthur's first class was English 400 Honors, and it was taught by a dusty old woman that looked like she was going to keel over at the next minute. She seemed to spend the entire class standing at her podium, reading from the book about sentence structure, but Arthur couldn't be sure because he slept through at least half of it.

At nine he had Biology, and it was thankfully a little less mind-numbingly boring, but Arthur got paired up with one of those beastly big guys named Kevin Billings for his lab partner, and he didn't seem to understand even the simple things. Arthur honestly didn't have much hope for getting out of an experiment without a mistake courtesy of this Kevin fellow. At least he seemed nice enough for the moment though.

Ten o'clock brought Calculus, and with it came horrible flashbacks of his math classes in high school. Arthur had never been good with numbers, a weakness he'd done his best to keep secret from Cobb and the other people he worked with, but being in the classroom setting brought back his anxiety about it. He wished Cobb had signed him up for something more basic at least because it might have been slightly easier to grasp. The teacher, Mr. Miles (who was apparently the father of young Miss Miles who was teaching Arthur's French class later), was friendly and charming, but Arthur just couldn't find it in himself to like him because he represented the torture he would be enduring, and he was representing it with a smile on his face.

Eleven o'clock came as a glorious, glorious relief, even more so when Arthur walked into his Advanced Placement Psychology class and remembered that Mr. Eames was teaching it.

Mr. Eames was wearing an off-the-rack button down shirt with a madras pattern of yellows, blues, and reds, a pair of baggy linen pants in pale gray, and alligator shoes (probably fake). Apparently the day before wasn't a fake-out of bad decisions and Eames genuinely had an "interesting" sense of style, but all the same he was still entirely too good-looking for it to matter. He smiled and shook the hands of each boy who walked through the door, and Arthur took a moment to wait outside the class and take in his every detail. He could see a hint of chest hair peeking out from the open collar of his shirt and a slightly gaudy old watch on his left arm. The glasses he'd seen the man wearing yesterday were tucked into his breast pocket, so Arthur was pretty sure they were just for reading. When the man smiled he also took note of his crooked teeth. It made Arthur run his tongue along his own teeth, remembering when he was sixteen (when he was _actually_ sixteen) and had been forced into braces for eighteen months. If he'd known a crooked-toothed smile could be as rewarding as Eames's, he wouldn't have bothered.

It was his turn to shake Eames's hand, so he approached and extended his hand, offering a tight, controlled smile. He didn't want to appear eager, even though he had a rather powerful urge to climb the man like a tree and hang on like a koala, because he wasn't about to blow his cover for a really stupid fling (he would still probably add this to the list of things he was angry at Cobb about later though). He did want to be friendly and professional enough to Eames because the smile only improved the view and because if Arthur was going to pretend to be a student he was going to pretend to be a good one, and it seemed he'd succeeded. Eames's eyes glinted a little, and he said softly, "It's a pleasure."

Arthur was pretty sure he detected an accent. God damn it, this guy was like someone had found a list of Arthur's turn-ons and constructed him.

Arthur took his seat and Eames sauntered over to the blackboard, writing out his name in some rather deplorable handwriting. "All right," he said, and he most definitely had an English accent. "I'm Mr. Eames. You can just call me Eames if you like, and this is Advanced Placement Psychology. If this isn't your class, please feel free to casually walk out. No one will judge you."

He turned around and, when no one moved, he nodded, smiling. "Okay, so I suppose I should call roll, yes?" He opened up his binder to the first page and started checking off names as he called them off, glancing for a raised hand or listening for a _here_ or a _present_. "Adams? Akin? Brandon? Curtis?"

He called out each name one by one, and Arthur was tempted to swoon at the way that smoky voice wrapped around words.

"Darling?"

The room was silent.

"Second call for Darling?"

Arthur's eyebrows knitted together as he came out of his trance. Did he mean…?

"Oh, me," Arthur said, lifting his hand, and suddenly all eyes seemed like they were on him. He realized then that everyone had noticed he was staring at Eames. Momentarily Arthur generated a mental image of all of his inner dirty thoughts leaking out of his ears and projecting onto the nearby wall for everyone to watch in movie format, but then he recovered and said, "It's ah… it's Dar- _ving_. Darving with a V. Not D-darling."

"Oh," Eames said, and the class resumed to normal (though they may have been normal to start with and all of that had been in Arthur's head). "My mistake. Forgive me, my handwriting is a bit difficult to read. Letters get a bit crooked when I'm in a rush. I'll try not to do it again."

Arthur nodded. "Yeah, uh… thanks."

Eames smirked and said, "So I suppose I should mark you as present then, shall I?"

He was so fucking handsome that it almost pissed Arthur off, but he just offered an awkward, hopefully teenage-looking smile.

"Right," Eames said. "Darling is here then. Check. Duncan?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. Apparently Eames had every intention of continuing the fumble. Arthur should have found it annoying, but right now he didn't.

In fact, Arthur had the feeling it was going to be hard to hate anything about Eames except for the fact that he couldn't touch him.

* * *

Arthur had expected his attention span to suffer in his Psychology class, not just because Eames was some very distracting eye candy, but also because it was hard for Arthur to give a damn about any of it. He was surprised to find though that Eames's teachings were as interesting as the rest of him. It helped that he had a nice speaking voice, but Arthur discovered quite quickly that Eames had enthusiasm and passion to back up his loud shirts.

He started out the class by pulling out a gathering of balloons and unexpectedly popping one, causing the boys in the class to jump a little. He kept popping them, achieving less of a response each time, until he slid the needle into the last one through a strip of clear tape that Arthur noticed but no one else did and it didn't pop. Everyone was surprised once again, having anticipated the noise. He went on to explain the aspects of developmental psychology and how human beings learned. It wasn't anything Arthur hadn't heard before, but he did find it fascinating to watch Eames talk about it with so much excitement.

When class had ended, Arthur packed up his books and started out the door, freezing momentarily when Eames clapped him on the shoulder. "Have a good first day, Darling," he said, and Arthur looked back at him and couldn't help but smile.

He turned and headed down the hall. He was wondering if he could sneak away to smoke a cigarette when he noticed Yusuf racing to catch up to him. "Oh, my God, my God, Arthur," he said.

"What?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow. "Was the lesson really that arresting for you, Yusuf?"

"Not particularly, but the fact that you were _drooling_ over Mr. Eames was."

Arthur stared at Yusuf, a momentary flutter of panic in his chest, and then pulled a face. "Oh, Yusuf," he said sarcastically, "am I really that opaque?"

"Don't play dumb. Come on, you were staring at him like a hungry dog for the whole class."

"I like the _class_ , okay? I was interested in the lesson."

"You said you weren't interested in any of your classes."

"Well, I changed my mind. It is possible to hold my interest, you know."

Yusuf squinted at him a bit suspiciously. "Okay then…" he said. "Let's just run down to the dining hall and grab lunch then, yeah? I'm starved."

Arthur nodded and followed, only casting a single glance back towards the doorway to the Psychology classroom where Eames was walking out.

He would have to be more careful to not be so obvious in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 3

With Yusuf by his side, Arthur wasn't able to run off and sneak a smoke, so he just went directly to the dining hall. It was crowded as expected with boys piling their plates high with whatever they wanted to stuff their faces with. Arthur was frankly a little disgusted with it all.

He wandered to the buffet table and fixed himself another green, leafy salad (it seemed like he was the only one in the building that used the salad bar considering how pristine it appeared), and then scooped some tomato and eggplant pasta onto a small plate. He found Yusuf in the same spot as they'd eaten breakfast, the items on his plate still just as eclectic.

"You eat like a bird, mate," Yusuf said. "No wonder you're so skinny."

"I thought you said I was more built than you expected," Arthur said as he took a bite of the pasta. Not nearly even close to as good as the stuff from Italy, but satisfactory he supposed. "Besides, I try to maintain portion control."

"Why?" Yusuf snorted. "Your metabolism's at the best it'll be. Now is the time for indulgence. You're supposed to be careful about what you eat when you're like… thirty."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Better to make good habits now whether than try to force them later," he said. Truthfully he mostly just trusted in keeping his diet good because he indulged in his pack of Marlboros. Even though he knew it was ludicrous, he'd convinced himself that it evened things out somehow.

He focused on looking around the room after that, glancing at Yusuf occasionally so that it appeared he was paying attention to what he was saying. He could already pick out a few kids that he had classes with though he couldn't remember their names, and he noticed his boring English teacher and Mr. Miles meandering around with a beautiful woman (probably another teacher). Then he saw Robert Fischer who had his head hung low while his father talked in a low tone to him. Arthur thought that must have sucked royally, not being able to escape a parental figure (which seemed to be the only positive thing about boarding school).

Arthur finished his lunch quickly and excused himself to go to the restroom. Yusuf, who was still working through his meal, gave him a wave goodbye and a shout of, "See you in French!"

As Arthur passed by Robert and his father, he felt a sudden tingling on the back of his neck, like he was being stared at. He glanced just slightly over his shoulder and found Maurice giving him the eye. Arthur wasn't sure why, but it made his heart beat faster, and he turned away again, casually walking out while trying not to panic.

The heavy wooden doors shut behind him, and he ran the rest of the way to the bathroom.

* * *

Arthur slipped inside the boy's room at the very end of the back hall, knowing it wouldn't be occupied during lunch, and locked the door. He turned around and pressed his back against the door, digging his cigarette pack out of his pocket and placing one between his teeth. He was just about to light it when a voice piped up.

"Well, aren't you just naughty, Darling?"

Arthur jumped, looking up with wide eyes to see Mr. Eames in all of his gorgeous, loud-shirted glory, staring in surprise. Arthur gaped at him, cigarette tumbling out of his mouth, and Eames caught it.

"Couldn't even wait a day, could you? I should report you to Mr. Browning for this. You know the rules—no smoking on campus."

Arthur blinked, swallowing thickly, and for a moment was cursing himself for being a dumbass… but then his nose caught a whiff of something familiar.

"If there's no smoking on campus, Mr. Eames, then why do you smell like smoke?" he asked.

Eames opened his mouth and then closed it. "Well," he said. "I suppose I could come up with a good lie here, but I doubt that you'd believe it.

Arthur raised his eyebrows and held out his hand. After a moment of hesitation, Eames returned the cigarette to him. "I won't tell on you if you won't tell on me," Arthur said.

"I don't see why I should abide by those rules," Eames said. "I am your superior after all. I have authority over you regardless of what you have on me, and it's not as though you have any proof I was doing anything."

Arthur huffed, rolled his eyes, and handed over his pack of cigarettes, "Fine. Sorry."

Eames placed the one that had been pulled out between Arthur's teeth. "Tell you what—Arthur, was it? Arthur, I'll let you have this one, but after that you're going cold turkey, yeah? I'll do it too. As your teacher, I should set a good example, after all."

Arthur couldn't help but just stare as Eames dug out a lighter and lit the tip for Arthur. Eames's eyes had flecks of green in them.

Eames then proceeded to pull out his own pack of cigarillos, show them to Arthur, and then toss them into the trashcan with Arthur's Marlboros. "Square deal?" Eames said, thrusting out his hand towards Arthur.

Arthur shook his hand more just to feel his touch rather than to agree to the deal. He had another pack hidden away in his bag back in his dorm room. He did like the callused feel of Eames's hand in his though, almost like their hands slotted together perfectly.

"All good then," Eames said. "Those things are bloody awful for you, you know? They make you look old."

If Arthur hadn't been undercover, he probably would have died of laughter. Instead he just exhaled smoke and watched Eames unconsciously inhale it.

"I'll behave myself, Mr. Eames," Arthur said, "but if I catch you in here again like this, I'm telling your boss."

Eames chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You've got a mouth on you for a kid."

Arthur was tempted to say _I could say the same about you, Mr. Eames_ , but he didn't. Instead he just watched the man unlock the bathroom door and saunter out.

"No more smoking. Remember that," he reminded, and the door clapped shut behind him.

* * *

At one, Arthur went to his Honors United States History class, and by the end of it was pretty sure he was about to die of boredom. Despite how unbearable the droning professor's voice was, Arthur did manage to remember quite a few things from his high school days. He'd never been very good at dates, but he figured he'd get by.

Two o'clock was his French class, and he met up with Yusuf out in the hall before it started. Yusuf was still pumped from his Chemistry class, while Arthur could barely keep his eyes open, but he figured he'd get used to it.

The teacher for the French class was the beautiful woman he'd seen with Mr. Miles earlier, and his suspicions that she was his daughter were confirmed when she addressed the class with, "Hello, I'm Malory Miles. I'd prefer it if you'd just call me Mal or Miss Mal, or even better Madame Mal if that's all right."

Arthur had already decided by that point that he liked her. He had a feeling he'd enjoy his French class.

Sure, he had it on his side that he lived in Paris most of the time so he actually _spoke_ French pretty well, but he was sure he would have found her lovely even if he couldn't speak a word of it.

Her lesson for that day was in English, but she informed them that as the lessons wore on, they would be using less and less of it and speaking more and more in French. She gave out vocabulary lists and assigned them homework and was all around bubbly and pretty and kind. It wasn't all that surprising to look around and see that ninety percent of his classmates were lusting after her. If he had ever been attracted to girls, he probably would have been head over heels for her too.

He made sure to stop and shake Mal's hand on the way out of class, telling her in French that she was lovely and he was looking forward to her class (and he fudged it quite a bit because he didn't want to appear too competent).

"Oh, Monsieur, you speak very well. I'm looking forward to future conversations with you," she said, charmed, and when he smiled she poked at one of his dimples. "You're Mr. Darving, right? Arthur?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

He turned and wandered out, getting a couple of jealous glares from classmates and sauntered up next to Yusuf.

"What is it with you and teachers, man?" Yusuf said, shaking his head in wonder. "You are a master at winning them over."

"I'm just being friendly," Arthur said lightly. "She's really cool, don't you think?"

"She's gorgeous," Yusuf replied. "I can't believe you could even focus on what she was saying."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "There's more to life than beauty, Yusuf. Don't you want someone with brains in their head?"

"Of course I do!" Yusuf scoffed. "A pretty face doesn't hurt though, right?"

Arthur shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so." He couldn't help but think of Eames's handsome-as-fuck face… Then he felt a bit like a hypocrite since he'd never really pursued anyone for their mind. Of course, he'd never really pursued anyone for a long-term relationship either. Jumping from country to country and spending his work hours in dangerous situations didn't really lead to romance. He'd never been much for the spend-forever-together thing anyway.

Still, he figured that if he ever did seek out someone to be with for a long time, he'd want them to be interesting. A face could only last so long after all…

(…thought the twenty-two year old that was flawlessly pretending to be sixteen).

"You're telling me that you aren't attracted to Mal?" Yusuf snorted. "Come on, she's like—straight out of a fifties' pin-up magazine."

"Good to know you like them classy, Yusuf," Arthur laughed. "No, I'm really not. No one has to worry about me stealing her heart and ending up on the news like that one teacher and student… what was her name again?"

"I don't know," Yusuf said, "but if you don't at least intend to wank to her image once you're either crazy or a poofter."

"Sometimes you can be really insensitive, Yusuf," Arthur said flatly. "You'll never get a date with that kind of attitude."

"I knew it," Yusuf said. "I knew you were a poofter. No bloke looks at another man like you did at Mr. Eames unless they're a poofter."

Arthur shoved him a little bit playfully but with a warning edge to it. "Stop being an asshole, Yusuf."

"Right… sorry," Yusuf said, "but… are you? I mean, you know I wouldn't care if you were."

"I'm going to go find somewhere quiet to study for free period now," Arthur deadpanned and turned off down a hall before Yusuf could ask him anything else.

* * *

Arthur wasn't sure what to do about Yusuf's questioning his sexuality (and on his first day of classes!), so he was thankful to get away from him for a bit and seek out an empty classroom. His interest in boys had never really been a secret by any means, but he usually was able to handle himself without being quite so obvious. Perhaps, he thought, his sexuality became a bit more obvious because he was too focused on keeping his age a secret.

Whatever, it didn't matter. He didn't care if rumors circulated about him because hopefully in a few months he'd be out of this place.

He wandered the halls for a good fifteen minutes, glancing into the windows on the doors. Most of the classrooms were occupied, though there were a few that didn't have classes taking place. Those rooms generally had boys in them though, and they looked far from quiet places. Arthur just wanted to get away from the noise for a minute or two without having to walk back to the dorm.

The room he settled on didn't appear empty, but it was the most peaceful one he'd found. He could hear piano music lilting in through the door of the music room, and he quietly pushed it open to step inside.

" _Walking up the hill tonight, when you have closed your eyes…_ "

Arthur froze, looking across the room to the grand piano where none other than Robert Fischer was sitting, playing gentle, melancholy notes and singing.

" _I wish I didn't have to make all those mistakes and be wise…_ "

Arthur forgot about his search for an empty room and just leaned against the doorway, listening.

" _Please try to be patient and know that I'm still learning… I'm sorry that you have to see the strength inside me burning…_ "

Arthur had never really been a connoisseur of music and had never learned to play a single instrument in his life. He'd found music class and music itself to be a bit of a waste of time, just something good to listen to when he was working out (or having sex). He wasn't like the people who put real thought into a lyric or experienced an outpouring of emotion over a certain piece. He could respect people who performed music simply on a skill level, but he just didn't have that connection to it like most.

" _But where are you, my angel, now? Don't you see me crying? And I know that you can't do it all, but you can't say I'm not trying…_ "

However, when Arthur stood there, listening to Robert Fischer pour out his heart and soul to a piano's keys, not realizing he was even being listened to, Arthur couldn't help but _feel_ something. Perhaps it was just the anguished look on his face as he sang, fingers dancing across the keys as though second nature, but he was momentarily absolutely enthralled.

" _I'm on my knees in front of him, but he doesn't seem to need me… with all his troubles on his mind, he's looking right through me… and I'm letting myself down by satisfying you…and I wish that you could see that I have my troubles too…_ "

Robert looked up then and immediately stopped when he saw Arthur standing there. Panicked, Arthur watched the boy swipe at the tears on the ends of his lashes and hastily apologize. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't know anyone was—I'm sorry. I didn't, sorry."

"No, no, it's—you don't have to apologize," Arthur offered, letting the door shut behind him as he came fully into the room. "I was enjoying it. It was really beautiful."

Robert fell silent for a moment, looking down at the keys and skimming his fingers over them. "Do you really think so?" he asked, and he sounded absolutely disbelieving, as if no one had ever told him such a thing before.

"Yeah," Arthur said, leaning his hip against the side of the piano. "It was fantastic. Did you write it?"

"Oh… no," Robert shook his head. "It's from _Once_ … it's a movie? Um, it's also a musical on Broadway right now. I um… I really like theatre, and… well, uh… this song really speaks to me."

Arthur ran his hand over the side of the piano. "Will you play the rest of it? It'd be a shame to leave it unfinished, don't you think?"

"You really want to hear it?"

"Yeah, I really do," Arthur said, sitting down in a nearby desk. "I've been on edge pretty much all day and I feel more relaxed than ever right now because of your playing." It was the truth. Arthur couldn't deny it if he tried.

Robert looked back down at the keys and then at his watch, contemplating, and then said, "Maybe some other time… I have to take care of some things."

He stood and quietly closed the lid. "I'm not allowed to spend all my time playing around like this," Robert said. "It's time I could be spending on something useful."

Arthur sat there silently as the boy offered a rather sad smile and said, "See you later," and then he was gone.

Arthur stared after him for a while before going over to the piano, sitting down, and opening the lid. He pressed a few keys with his index finger and then dropped his hands into his lap. He hummed the melody softly, closing his eyes, letting himself be caught up in the memory.

* * *

At three-thirty Arthur had tennis (on Mondays at least—he had basketball on Tuesday, track and field on Wednesday, and swimming on Thursday), which he was perfectly average at (he did have the eye of a gun man after all), and that lasted until five-thirty. From there he had twenty minutes to eat dinner before going off to the school paper club. Cobb had annoyingly signed him up for clubs to keep him busy so he had the newspaper on Monday and Tuesday, fencing on Wednesday and Thursday (and he didn't even know people still did that), choir—of all things—on Friday, and outing club on the weekends. He would have been absolutely positive that was a shot at his sexual preferences if he wasn't so sure that Cobb's disturbing lack of common sense would render that impossible.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh and raked his hands through his hair. He really wished Cobb had given him some more free time that he didn't have to play the student game all the time, but there wasn't much he could do about it for the moment. He hauled his book bag and himself into the library to do the homework he'd already had assigned.

Yeah, this was sucking, but not quite as badly as he had expected it to, at least. There were some definite pluses about this whole school thing, or at least some advantages to make the best out of a bad situation. There were some semi-interesting classes, and the food wasn't terrible, and Eames was there with his fucking gorgeous face and voice and body and everything. That was pretty okay.

It didn't completely outweigh the fact that he was stuck around a bunch of smelly, whiney teenagers as his brain started to rot out of boredom, but it dulled the sting a little.

The thing was, Arthur had hit the ground running when he graduated high school and hadn't stopped since. He'd thrown himself headfirst into his work, loving the rush of adrenaline each job brought, and he didn't really know how to slow down. Cobb had forced him to not only reduce his speed but basically stumble to a stop, and it made Arthur feel like he was going mad. As he sat in the library, reading and rereading passages from books when he realized he couldn't remember what he'd just read, he hoped to God that all of this price-on-his-head stuff would blow over soon.

He honestly didn't know how anyone had seen him. He'd been moving so quickly that night and definitely didn't have time to get a good look at any of their faces. Then again, he had been undercover at the company for several weeks before, and with the fact that Nash had rather brutally burned to death in his mind, there was the very likely possibility that they'd known his game all along…

…but… if they had known, then why didn't they attack him before that night and take him down when he was more off-guard? Where the hell had he screwed up badly enough that they caught onto the plan that quickly? As hard as Arthur thought about it, he just couldn't seem to figure out his mistake. Arthur had never made a mistake in his entire career that he couldn't work his way out of. Sure, he was working with grossly incompetent Nash of all people, but the man hadn't set foot near the actual building. It would have to take some actual effort on Nash's part to mess up that gloriously…

Of course, this _was_ Nash. It was a wonder he still had the job before being killed. Cobb had mostly kept him on because of his intimate knowledge of architecture. Nash was a weasel, yes, but he certainly knew how to find escape routes. If there was one thing Nash was good at, it was finding his way out.

Except for that last time, of course.

Arthur racked his brain for how things had gone so horribly wrong, but at the moment he just couldn't think of anything.

By then it was about nine, and he figured he would rather head back to the dorm and get some sleep than wonder over it some more. He'd had a pretty crazy day, and he figured some rest would do him a lot of good. It wasn't like he could turn the clock back and change what had happened, so dwelling on it was a waste of time anyway.

He returned to the room to find Yusuf intently buried in a Chemistry textbook, clearly so interested in his work that he didn't even notice Arthur come in. Arthur slipped into his t-shirt and pajama bottoms, crawled under the covers, and turned off the light on his side of the room.

He just wished he'd known what he'd done to get himself into this nonsense. At least then he would know that he somewhat deserved this hellish punishment.

That was a problem for tomorrow though. He was too tired to care.

Being a high school student was a lot harder than Arthur remembered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 4

"Mmm… right there," Arthur purred, squirming a little at the feel of a hand brushing up his inner thigh while a pair of perfectly plush lips left a trail of kisses along his jugular.

"You like that, do you?" Eames asked, his voice deep and rough and _God_ , Arthur could come just from that voice alone. "You like it when I kiss your neck?"

Eames nipped at Arthur's collarbone and simultaneously wrapped his hand around Arthur's cock, giving it one leisurely stroke. Arthur's mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back in his head. Eames was really, really, _really_ good at this, he thought, rocking his hips upward into the touch and letting out a low sound in his throat as the man kissed down his chest, still stroking him teasingly slowly.

"Eames…" Arthur breathed, and he could feel the man smile against the skin of his belly, watched as he looked up at Arthur through his lashes, eyes dancing with mischievousness.

"You're so eager," Eames _growled_ , and that made tingles go all the way up Arthur's spine, "Come now, darling, you don't think I'll give it to you that easily, do you?"

**BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-**

Arthur jolted awake, inhaling sharply through his nose and angrily beat on his alarm clock until it went silent. His heart was still hammering against his chest from the rather vivid dream, and all of his blood had rushed south during the middle of it. He groaned in annoyance and tried to think about baseball, the DMV, Cobb—ah, there it went.

It had been four days since he'd been sent to this god awful place, and it wasn't getting any less boring. Apparently though, the high school thing was rubbing off on Arthur (and fuck, that was a poor choice of words) because he seriously had just had a dirty dream. He hadn't had one of those since his actual teenage years, and he woke up with that sense of shame and embarrassment they always brought even if there was no one particularly witnessing it (judging from the snoring lump of Yusuf in the other bed). He was pretty sure that was manifesting out of the annoying monotony of it all as well. Eames was the only really interesting thing at the school.

Arthur crawled out of bed, grumbling, and shook Yusuf until the boy was lumbering out the dorm room's door behind him. They managed to get through showering, shaving, and getting dressed relatively unscathed before heading off to classes. Arthur was frustrated that he hadn't heard a peep out of Cobb since he'd called him on the first day, and he honestly was starting to worry he'd be at this place for the entire school year.

Arthur had never been a fan of routine, and that was exactly what he'd fallen into. It would be impossible to even get out of bed if it weren't for the fact that he discovered Robert Fischer was actually in his first class. On the second day, the doe-eyed boy had decided to start sitting next to Arthur, and they would whisper to each other for the entirety of it. Arthur found the boy surprisingly mature for his age, which made him a lot easier to talk to than quite a few people. Then again, just from what Arthur had learned about him for the past few days, the boy had been trained from the day he was born to follow in his father's footsteps and run his businesses.

"It's all very, very boring," Robert had told Arthur, "but someone's got to do it, and my last name is the one on the building."

Arthur had frankly been horrified by the grooming Robert had gone through from day one to be a businessman. Frankly, the very idea of sitting behind a desk all day was probably the most terrifying thing Arthur could think of, and it was part of the reason he started running as soon as he'd graduated. He was sort of living with that nightmare now, since he was stuck in a room behind a desk, but at least he had the knowledge that he wouldn't be stuck doing it for the rest of his life. This was all Robert had ever done, all he'd ever do.

"You get used to it," Robert said that morning when Arthur expressed his concerns. "You don't have to worry about it. I'm okay with it."

"Is that really all you want to do with your life?" Arthur asked, glancing back towards the front of the class as his English teacher droned on about something.

"Well, I was in a way born for it, and the money's good at least."

"Yeah, but why have money if you never go anywhere or do anything fun?" Arthur asked, leaning his cheek on his fist. "Do you really feel like you have to do absolutely everything your dad says?"

Robert shrugged. "Don't you want to please your parents, Arthur?"

"Not particularly," Arthur replied. "There's not much of a point in trying to please the dead."

Robert's big blue eyes got a little bit bigger as he gaped in shock and embarrassment. "Oh… Oh, my God, I didn't mean—"

Arthur waved it off. "Don't worry about it. It's fine. They died in a car accident when I was like… seven. I hardly even remember them, honestly."

"So… who have you been living with?" Robert asked, eyebrows furrowing, and Arthur realized that he'd gotten just a little bit too honest for a second there.

"Foster family," he replied, and it wasn't so much a lie as it was a former fact. "I've been passed around between quite a few, but my current caretaker sent me here."

Just thinking of Cobb as his 'caretaker' was a bit hilarious, but it was more or less true, Arthur supposed.

Robert sat back in his chair, pen tapping against his lips. "Well, that sucks, man. I thought my family life was bad."

Arthur was a little confused by that since it had never seemed all that bad to him. Being sent from home to home as soon as people got tired of him had sucked, but he'd never been with anyone particularly abusive or negligent so he considered himself one of the lucky ones. He'd never cared for people taking pity on his situation, hadn't much cared for the sympathetic stares when people found out about his parents. It was just something that had happened. Arthur was too focused on moving forward to look behind him. He was far from interested in a dull and depressing past.

To him, Robert's situation seemed far more annoying, since it involved the future as well… but to each his own, he guessed.

Arthur liked Robert anyway, despite the doleful look. He reminded Arthur a bit of himself when he was in school—intimidating to talk to and kind of a loner (and he was also pretty sure Robert was gay or at least curious, though he hadn't said one way or the other). He could tell that inside there was a boy screaming to escape his situation and go traversing into the distance like Arthur had, and it actually made Arthur feel a little nostalgic for those days. He wondered if Robert would snap and run away and turn out like Arthur. It would be interesting to watch and see if the boy was quite so rebellious.

* * *

When eleven o' clock rolled around, Arthur walked into Eames's class to find the man hadn't yet arrived. He went to his typical seat next to Yusuf, finding the boy doodling on a stray sheet of paper, glasses just a little bit askew. He greeted Arthur with his typical smile, adjusting the half-moon frames. "How's your day been so far?" Yusuf asked. "Still hanging out with Robert Fischer?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You know about that?"

"Um… yeah, Arthur, it's front page news, you know? Robert Fischer doesn't talk to anyone, but suddenly he's chummy with you. You're the talk of the whole school."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Maybe Rob doesn't talk to anyone because no one talks to him first. He's a perfectly normal guy. Just because his last name is in the title of the school doesn't change anything."

"If you say so," Yusuf said. "It just makes me wonder what his sudden interest in you is."

"There isn't one," Arthur said. "Maybe he just thinks I'm a pretty cool guy."

"Uh, not with those glasses and the fact that you associate with me. You're officially a part of the nerd herd, Arthur. Just be glad you aren't getting swirlies in the bathroom yet."

"I don't think anyone is going to give me a _swirly_ , Yusuf, come on."

"We'll see," Yusuf said cryptically, and Arthur wondered if he hadn't already received one. "I wonder what's keeping Mr. Eames."

As if on cue, the man hurried in. "Yes, yes, running a bit late. Stay in your seats, I'm here."

Arthur felt like his heart had dropped out of his body because when Eames spoke he was suddenly very aware that he'd imagined up his sex voice during a dream a little more than a few hours ago, and he could no longer UN-hear it.

" _You don't think I'll give it to you that easily, do you?"_

Fuck, hadn't _that_ been the truth? Even his dreams were cockblocking him. It certainly didn't help that, in his rush to class, Eames had opted out on his usual baggy trousers and loud shirts and instead thrown on a pair of jeans and a _tight_ t-shirt… and even though Arthur could just see a hint of them, he realized then that Eames had _tattoos_.

 _Well, sign me up as sexually frustrated_ , Arthur thought. He wanted to run his fingers over the little spikes of Eames's hair, still damp and gleaming from a surely rushed shower. Oh, God, to think just a few minutes ago he'd been in the _shower_.

Damn, Arthur needed to get laid. He wasn't sure when or how he was going to manage that at this rate though. Instead he just passed in his homework and tried not to look at Eames too much.

Thankfully, Eames had a video for them to watch that day, so he didn't speak a lot. Arthur watched it with mild half-interest, trying not to focus on his unsatisfying dream (unsatisfying only in that it hadn't been completed, of course). He wondered what kind of awesome things his co-workers were getting up to right now, what kind of work they were doing without him. Cobb was probably assigning jobs to less-than-qualified agents while Arthur was stuck here in a blazer and giant glasses learning about stuff he should've already learned by now.

He really wanted to get out of this place.

* * *

Arthur made it through the rest of his classes without too much fuss, but by the time he was dragging himself off to the library to finish his homework, he was pretty ready to just dig himself a hole and die. He was just so _tired_ of doing _nothing_. Everything seemed so pointless. When he pulled out his assignment for Mr. Miles's calculus class, he nearly wanted to cry.

He whittled away one hour and then two as he attempted to do the assignment, gave up, moved to other assignments and finished them, and then came back to the math homework. He got up and went to the bathroom and came back. Fresh eyes didn't help.

Arthur's head thumped against the desk, and he pulled at his hair in frustration, groaning a bit. He had to be back in his room in less than half an hour, and he really didn't want to ask Yusuf for his help, even though they had promised that they would help each other. Arthur was twenty-two goddamned years old, and he was supposed to know math by this point.

"Pardon me."

He looked up, recognizing the voice immediately. It was Eames, of course, tauntingly attractive in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and flip-flops.

"Arthur?" Eames questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked.

"I forgot to pick up a DVD for class tomorrow and thought I'd run in and snag it before curfew. You're still in here?"

Arthur gestured over the stacks of books and scattering of papers on the table. "Homework."

Eames nodded, "Ah, yes, I see. What are you working on?"

"If you're asking if I've already done your assignment, the answer is yes. I've just got Mr. Miles's assignment and then I can go back to my room."

"Ah, Miles," Eames said, smiling, "Good bloke, that Miles. I hear a lot of positive things about his classes."

"Yeah, well, you won't hear it from me," Arthur said flatly, leaning his cheek heavily on his fist.

Eames pulled out the chair next to Arthur and sat down, smirking good-humoredly. "Is that so? What's the matter? Which problem are you on?"

Arthur slid over the assignment and the notebook. "I haven't even started. I've been trying to do it for hours," he sighed.

"I take it you're not too savvy on math."

Arthur sighed a second time, scrubbing his hands over his face in exhaustion and frustration. "All I'm saying is, I'm glad that tomorrow is Friday so I don't have to focus on this shit for two days."

"You're quite bold to curse in front of a teacher, even if it is after hours," Eames chuckled, and when Arthur paled a little, he assured him, "It's fine, Arthur. I don't care. I'm just saying you might want to choose your words a bit more carefully around other teachers."

Arthur blushed a little, mostly out of embarrassment. "Right, yeah… Sorry, I can't help it. I get really frustrated with this stuff. I'm a pretty smart guy, I think, but… numbers are just a whole different ballgame to me. It's like my brain can't process them."

Eames was silent for a moment, and then he said, "Show me how you might even attempt to solve the first one."

"I can't," Arthur said. "I don't even know where to start. That's part of the problem... and it pisses me off because I know it can't be that hard."

"You know," Eames said, sliding the assignment back over to him, "perhaps it's not your fault. Maybe you've got dyscalculia. It's like dyslexia, but with numbers."

"I don't know," Arthur said softly, pouting a little. He didn't like the idea of there being something mentally wrong with him, but there was something satisfying about having a possible answer for his issues. He appreciated that Eames didn't automatically assume he was an idiot like the teachers who had taught him in his actual high school had.

"Well, either way, I'll tell Miles about it and see if he can't help you out. In the meantime, let's work on this assignment, yeah?"

"You're actually going to help me?" Arthur asked, looking at him in surprise.

"Well, maths was never my strong subject, but I think between you and I we can manage," Eames replied, a warm smile appearing on his face. Arthur wanted to run his fingertips over his lips and teeth, wanted Eames to suck his fingers into his mouth and round his lips around his knuckles… but Arthur figured it was better to store that in the back of his memory bank to pull out later on (if he could ever find somewhere on this campus where he could be by himself).

"Okay," Arthur said, smiling. "Let's do it."

Inside his head, he added, _seriously, let's do it. By do it, I mean sex. Sex with you would be nice._

They didn't have sex, but they did settle in to do the math homework. Eames made quite a few mistakes, causing them to have to go back and redo the problems, but Arthur couldn't help but wonder if the man messed up a few times on purpose just to make Arthur feel better about his own shortcomings.

By the end of the hour, the homework was a little messy but it was also finished, and Arthur took his glasses off to rub his eyes and then stretched his arms above his head in relief. "Oh, God, thank you so much."

"Hey, I'm the one who helped you. How come God gets all the credit?" Eames snorted, laughing. "I've graduated from all of my schooling. I shouldn't have to do maths anymore, and yet, out of the sheer goodness of my heart, I helped you with yours."

"Are you looking for me to worship you or something?" Arthur asked. "Should I bow?"

"Bowing is entirely unnecessary," Eames said, tousling Arthur's hair. "A thank you would quite suffice."

Arthur shoved him a little. "Okay, yeah. Thanks. Really, thank you."

They lapsed into silence after that, and only after a moment Arthur realized they were _staring_ at each other. For a moment, Arthur thought something was going to happen, but then Eames just shook his head and said, "You know, you should really ditch the glasses. The ladies wouldn't be able to resist those eyes of yours."

"Um, we're at an all-boys school. What ladies are you referring to exactly?" Arthur asked good-humoredly (even though he was screaming internally over the fact that Eames was complimenting his eyes at all). Normally compliments didn't mean shit to Arthur, but Arthur had been trapped in a school of awkward teenage boys and had started to feel like one of them. Yesterday he'd even thought he'd seen a blemish on his forehead.

"There's an all-girls academy right across the way," Eames explained, sitting back in his chair. "We have a dance every year where the girls are allowed to come over and join the festivities. Quite a few of them come by during the weekends too, at least during the day… and you don't seem even mildly interested in that fact."

Arthur blinked, realizing he'd stopped paying attention at some point. Eames's mouth was just kind of distracting. "Oh. Well. Um. No, I mean—well, I'm not really big on dances. You know, uh… I got two left feet, and I'm not very good at talking to girls."

Both of these things were lies.

Eames narrowed his eyes a little, as if questioning whether Arthur was being truthful, and then he simply said, "All right then. Well, if there's anything you ever need to talk about, you can always come to me. I know it can be difficult to not be around your parents at this age—even if you don't actually want them around most of the time."

"Yeah, I guess," Arthur shrugged, putting his books and notes back into his bag before checking his watch. "Shit, it's past curfew. It's almost ten."

"I'll walk you back to your dorm," Eames offered. "Security won't bother you if you're with me."

"Thanks," he said, unable to help the smile that spread onto his face.

He really missed hanging out with adults.

* * *

The walk back to the dorm was pretty much silent, but Arthur didn't really notices. The voice in his head was loud enough to occupy him, constantly reminding him of how attractive Eames was and how he'd imagined them in bed together that morning. It wasn't like Arthur hadn't expected his dick to respond to Eames considering how fuckable and just-his-type he was, but Arthur really wished that he didn't feel that way. He was having a hard enough time just being the teenage student, and he didn't exactly want to lust after someone he couldn't touch. Eames, after all, was convinced that Arthur was sixteen (by some miracle everyone had been convinced, Arthur thought), and even if Arthur wasn't his student, Eames would think it was statutory.

Of course… that problem would only exist if Eames was even _interested_ in Arthur, and that was kind of stupid to start with. Arthur imagined Eames was probably straight (because it seemed all the best looking ones were), and even if he wasn't he likely didn't see Arthur as anything more than an awkward, gangly teenager. Sure, Eames had taken a shine to Arthur almost immediately, but that didn't mean anything. Most teachers had students they liked more than others.

God, this was already way more complicated than Arthur wanted. On the job, Arthur loved complicated, but when it came to his personal life, he would rather keep it simple. Sex was fun, but relationships were messy. Even if there wasn't an actual relationship involved with Eames (if hypothetically anything even did take place), he'd heard more than enough horror stories about teacher-student relationships. If it got out, he'd be screwed. Even if they did find out he was twenty-two and in disguise for his own safety, he was pretty sure that would blow his cover and end with a bullet in his skull.

Therefore, his brain knew that even if Eames was interested, sex could probably never happen.

He wished his dick had the same kind of logic his brain did.

When they got up to the door, Arthur said awkwardly, "Well, this is me." It felt like they'd just gotten back from a date… provided it was the most boring date ever (honestly, who would get together in a library and do math and not mean that as a really stupid euphemism?).

"Right then," Eames said. "Sleep well, and I'll see you in class tomorrow. By the way, you're a part of my outing club, yeah?"

Arthur blinked, suddenly brightening a little, not really able to help himself. "Uh… yeah, this weekend, right? Um, I'm not entirely sure what I signed up for there, but I was intrigued."

"Well, I didn't pick the name, no… but it's an outdoor club. We'll be traversing through the woods and learning about nature," Eames said, and then paused before adding, "I promise it'll be more fun and interesting than I made it sound."

"Well, then I guess I'll be seeing you this weekend as well," Arthur said and made a mental note to find time to jerk off before heading that way just in case Eames decided to saunter about shirtless or something and this whole not-getting-laid or having time to even take care of it himself was giving him a hair trigger. Eames's stupid handsome face certainly didn't help matters at all. "I think it sounds fun. I'm looking forward to being outside of a classroom for a bit."

"Ahh, I hoped you'd see it my way," Eames grinned. "Good night, Arthur. Sleep well, yeah?"

"You too, Mr. Eames. Thanks for the help, and… for not treating me like I'm stupid."

"Why would I treat you like you're stupid? You're one of my best students!"

Arthur waved goodbye and then watched Eames go for a moment or two before unlocking the door to his dormitory and slipping inside.

Yusuf was sitting at the desk, watching him with saucer-like eyes. "What the fuck was that all about?" he asked.

"What?" Arthur asked, tossing his backpack on top of his trunk and stripping out of the pieces of his uniform one by one.

"You know what! Your giggly, flirty goodnights with Mr. Eames out there! I heard you, you know. These walls aren't very thick."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't recall any giggling or flirting taking place. He just met up with me in the library and walked me back here so I wouldn't be in trouble for being out after curfew."

"Why was he being so nice to you?"

"…um, because he's _nice_ ," Arthur offered. "Come on, Yusuf, really? You think that just because someone was nice to me we must be boning? I'm pretty sure that would mean you and I were in the middle of a torrid love affair, don't you? Oh, and Robert Fischer too. Everybody wants to fuck Arthur Darving apparently."

God, that was depressingly false, even as sarcasm.

"You know that's not why," Yusuf fussed. "Your supposedly sharp wit doesn't cut as deeply as you think it does either, by the way. Mr. Eames wasn't acting any differently than he usually does. _You_ were the one acting differently."

Arthur sighed, spreading his arms out by his side. "Okay, I'll bite. How exactly was I acting differently?"

It was Yusuf's turn to roll his eyes. "Really? You don't know? How about the fact that when you're around Mr. Eames you've got that goofy grin on your face, and the fact that your sourpuss attitude disappears? I honestly don't mind the moodiness, mate, but it is true that it goes away when you're around him. It's like you're too distracted to be annoyed."

"That is _not_ true," Arthur scoffed.

Yusuf raised his eyebrows and smirked knowingly. "Isn't it?" he said.

Arthur pursed his lips, then exhaled. "Okay, fine, you caught me. I think he's hot. He's a good-looking guy, all right? I'm gay, yeah. There, I said it."

Yusuf snorted. "Well, yeah, I knew that. I've been telling you since we met, but you just kept denying, denying, denying, but… wow, really? Eames? I mean, yeah, he's one of the younger teachers here, and he's not ridiculously out of shape or balding or anything, but… how do you not just look at him and… I don't know… see somebody's _dad_ or something?"

"Probably because he's clearly not even out of his twenties," Arthur deadpanned. He shook his head. "Besides, it's not like I _like_ him or expect anything out of it. I just… you know, think he's hot or whatever. Like… like you could look in a magazine and find a supermodel hot or something."

Yusuf shrugged. "Okay, fine, I'll take that. I'm just saying now that you'll need to be careful… I've seen how brutal it can be here for… well, poofters."

"I'm not afraid of anybody here. I wouldn't care if anyone found out except for the fact that it's none of their business…" he paused. "Am I really so obvious that you knew I was into him immediately?"

"No," Yusuf admitted. "I heard you mumbling his name while you slept, and I noticed you had a stiffy."

"Well, now I need a gun and a bullet for my head."

Yusuf laughed heartily and clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't be so embarrassed. It happens to all of us."

Arthur threw himself into his pajamas and into bed, and said, "Please, never say anything about it ever, ever, _ever_ again?"

"Wouldn't _dream_ of it, mate," Yusuf said, and Arthur was pretty sure that was supposed to be a taunt, but he didn't feel like bothering with it anymore. He had class in the morning.

 _God, what has my fucking life become?_ Arthur thought.

He really needed to get out of the place. He was almost positive he was going insane.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 5

Kevin, Arthur's lab partner, wasn't very bright but had all kinds of heart. Arthur had expected the typical lazy dumb-jock response out of him, but he actually did put a lot of effort into the assignments they were given. Arthur didn't really have much of an opinion on him personality-wise, but he could always, always appreciate someone who valued hard work. Kevin, in turn, pretty much clung to Arthur when it came to their projects, genuinely appreciative of any help he could receive.

"Damn, Arthur, you're like, the smartest guy in the whole school," Kevin told him that Friday. "If I didn't have you as a partner, this whole class would be a disaster."

Arthur of course couldn't tell him that the reason why he was doing such a good job was because he'd done it once before the first time around, but he just offered a sheepish smile and a shrug. "Sometimes the sentence structure in science questions can kind of confuse you, but if you just take it slow, it's not too bad. You'll get it."

"Most people don't think so," Kevin sighed, leaning his square jaw onto a chubby-fingered fist. His reddish hair was buzzed short on the sides of his head but was sticking up in awkward intervals on the top after having had his hands run through it over and over again. The boy had the frustration and hopelessness in his expression that Arthur definitely recognized in his own stature during math class, so he couldn't help but sympathize.

…and that… that was _weird_ because Arthur didn't really sympathize with anyone. He didn't much care about anybody if he could help it. No, it wasn't because of some bitter hatred towards other people or the world in general because he didn't feel that way at all. It was just that he had never had enough time to get close to anyone, and it wasn't exactly safe to in his line of work besides. Arthur mostly just kept to himself because it was _easier_.

Perhaps it was difficult _not_ to sympathize with people in a place like this, where everything was routine and normal. If Arthur didn't have any people to talk to, the monotony of it all would most definitely send him to the nut house. The lack of danger made it easier, definitely, since once he was out of here they'd only remember Arthur Darving, the sixteen-year-old sourpuss. It was oddly fascinating to find out what it felt like to have friends.

Arthur waved goodbye to Kevin at the end of class and headed off to his dreaded Calculus class. He figured it wouldn't be quite so bad since he'd had Eames's help on the homework, but it didn't mean he hated it any less. He was mostly just looking forward to it being over. He at least didn't have a sport today, so he'd have two extra hours of free time for the afternoon. Yusuf had made the suggestion that they wander the little ways over to the girls' academy and look in through the gate, but Arthur wasn't exactly interested in doing so. He was currently trying to think of a way to get out of it.

After his French class had ended, Arthur had quickly slipped away so that Yusuf couldn't drag him along for his adventures outside the girl's academy. He slipped into an empty classroom (so glad he'd finally found one), and he called Cobb.

"Any news?" Arthur asked as soon as Cobb answered.

"Nice to hear from you too," Cobb replied.

"Cobb," Arthur huffed. "Seriously, when am I going to get _out_ of this place? I'm going crazy."

"Oh, come on, Arthur," Cobb said, humor in his voice. "I'm sure you've made lots of friends."

"I don't need friends, Cobb, I need my _work_ ," Arthur grumbled, hopping up onto a desk and sitting down. "I'm tired of homework, and I'm tired of teenage angst, and I'm tired of the head of the school constantly giving me the stink eye. Please tell me you've made some progress on the hit."

Hesitance. "Not exactly."

"Damn it, Cobb."

"Look, Arthur, I'm sorry," Cobb sighed. "It's complicated, okay? I'm working as fast as I can, but there's a lot of stuff going on right now. This crime ring is trying to come after all of us. I'm just trying to keep everyone safe. Quelling your boredom is not my first priority."

Arthur wanted to complain, but deep down he knew Cobb was right. It didn't mean he wasn't annoyed by it though.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, even though he wasn't. "I know you're doing the best you can. I just want to be able to help. I don't want to just be stuck here in a school playing dress up all day when there's so much going on. I feel like I could be of more use out there in the field."

"The best use of you, Arthur, is having you alive, and this is the only way I see fit to keep you that way right now. These guys mean serious business. You know how big a sting that was."

"Uh, yeah, which is why I didn't want to work it with _Nash_. I know he was good at escape routes, but he's been pretty grossly incompetent in most aspects."

"It's not really fair to spit on the name of a dead man, Arthur," Cobb reminded. "I understand your frustration, but I thought that with you Nash could get the job done. I'm sorry I made the mistake."

Arthur felt a pit in his stomach as he wondered whether Cobb meant that honestly or if he was calling Arthur out on his own failure to manage the situation. If they hadn't seen his face, then maybe he wouldn't have been in this mess.

"Please," Arthur said, "try to keep me in the loop, Cobb. I want to know what's going on. I want to help if it's in any way possible, so don't leave me in the dark."

"I'll do my best, Arthur. Stay safe. Try and enjoy yourself. It's only been a week so far. You'll adjust."

"I'll try, Cobb, but I seriously doubt I'm going to adjust. That would mean reverting to who I was like… six years ago."

"Just _try_ ," Cobb said again, and Arthur quite enjoyed the mental picture he had of choking the daylights out of him.

"Okay, fine. Call me," Arthur said and hung up without saying goodbye.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket and headed out the door only to run smack dab into Robert Fischer, sending the boy's notes tumbling everywhere.

"Oh, my God, Rob—" Arthur stammered. "Shit, I'm sorry."

"It's… it's fine," Robert said, crouching down to pick up the mess. "Accidents happen."

Arthur knelt down on one knee to assist him only to discover that the papers that had scattered were not class notes but pieces of sheet music. "Oh… hey, what's all this?" Arthur asked curiously. "Are you putting on a show or something?"

"Oh… no, I just… I carry this stuff around with me so I can play and sing during my free period," Robert replied, blushing sheepishly. "I've collected a few different pieces over the years."

"I'll say," Arthur said, taking care to try and match up the pages correctly. "This is a lot of music. Can you play and sing all of this stuff?"

"Well, I can play most of it, though there are a few piece I'm still working on," Robert said. "I can't sing all of the pieces though. Some of these pieces are written for altos and sopranos, and I'm a tenor only on a good day. I can transpose them down, I guess, but—"

Arthur stared at him blankly because he had no idea what any of that meant.

Robert's face broke out in a grin. "Really? Arthur… I saw your name on the roll sheet for choir this evening. Do you really not know what any of those terms mean?"

"Um," was Arthur's eloquent response.

"Come on," Robert said, getting to his feet, taking the papers from Arthur. "Let's go into the music room. It's empty this time of day, and I can teach you some stuff… I mean, unless you've got somewhere you need to be."

Arthur looked around. "Um… no, actually, I'm free until choir. Yusuf wanted me to go with him over to the girls' school, but… Well, frankly this sounds much more entertaining than watching Yusuf pining at the school gate."

Robert laughed. "If he finds us, we'll both go, but until then, let me show you how music works."

* * *

Robert trilled the keys on the piano a few times before turning to Arthur and asking, "So, what kind of music do you like?"

Arthur didn't exactly have an answer to that, so he shrugged. "Um… I don't really… I never really listened to music."

Robert raised his eyebrows. "You have _got_ to be kidding me. Even with my strict upbringing, I was still able to listen to music. How can you live without music?"

Arthur quickly realized that Robert was absolutely one-hundred percent serious as he said this.

"Um, I don't… know…" Arthur said softly. The passion coming off of Robert in waves actually made Arthur feel guilty for not purchasing an mp3 player and filling it with every song he could ever remember hearing. "I guess I listen to the same stuff Yusuf does. The Smiths and stuff like that…" It had been the same music he'd listened to on occasion in high school, so he was familiar, but he never had a favorite artist. He'd just never seen the purpose.

"All right… so… which songs from those bands do you know?"

Arthur just sort of stood there awkwardly.

"Okay, so, I guess we're starting pretty much from scratch then. That's fine. I'm assuming you can't read music, so we'll just have to play it by ear."

By this point Arthur was starting to feel out of his depth and thinking that maybe he should have gone with Yusuf. He had never really liked being the confused one in a group, but then again it was probably best to just be lost in front of Robert rather than an entire class of people younger than him.

Robert hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, and then he got up and walked over to Arthur. "Stand up straight and put your feet about a shoulder's width—yeah, that's good." He pressed his hands gently onto Arthur's shoulders and gently pushed them. "Yeah, shoulders back and down, try and keep your chin parallel with the floor and don't lead with it. Breathe in."

Arthur did as told, blushing a little when Robert settled his hand on Arthur's stomach.

"Oh, good, you already breathe properly. You'd be surprised how many people don't," Robert said. "Try and stay in that stance and breathe like that."

"Okay… what do you want me to do?" Arthur asked.

Robert sat back down and hit a key on the piano. "We're going to do vocal warm-ups."

* * *

For the first half hour or so, Arthur was seriously wishing he hadn't elected for Robert's music lesson since vocal warm-ups were a hassle. It was one scale after another after another, going higher and higher and then lower and lower, and the repetitiveness of it all was quite boring. There was also the fact that Arthur had never actually sung in front of anyone that made him terribly uncomfortable.

Robert ended the vocal warm-ups though, and he was smiling when they were done. "You've actually got a pretty cool voice," Robert said. "It's kind of a smoky rocker thing. It's nice."

"Oh. Um. Thanks," Arthur said. He could suffice to say he'd never heard that before.

Robert smiled. "You're welcome," he said. "So, what songs do you want to sing now? I've got some mainstream stuff since I'm sure you don't know any Broadway pieces. Do you know _any_ songs? I mean… the Beatles? Queen? Anything?"

"I… know who those bands are," Arthur replied awkwardly. "I'm a fast learner though. Just uh… you know, we can do a song, and I'll pick up on it."

Robert nodded and sifted through several pieces before deciding on one, spreading out the sheets on the stand and starting to play. "I can't believe you don't know any songs," Robert told Arthur, his fingers never faltering on the keys. "I mean, seriously, what do you do to unwind?"

"I don't know," Arthur shrugged. "I guess I don't really think about it."

Robert snorted. "You don't unwind at all. No wonder everyone thinks you've got a rod up your ass."

Arthur would have been offended, but his co-workers had told him the same thing. He had never considered himself to be quite _that_ uptight, but… well…

"Well, hopefully this will help," Robert said. "Music is the best way for me to get my emotions out. Like, I can just spill everything I'm feeling into a song. Try it. Don't worry so much about the notes. Just follow my lead."

Robert started to sing, and Arthur did his best to follow along with the words on the sheet music. It took a few stops and starts, but eventually they fell into step together.

" _Turn down the lights, turn down the bed… Turn down these voices inside my head… Lay down with me, tell me no lies… Just hold me close… Don't patronize me… don't patronize me…_ "

Arthur thought it was a bit of a ridiculous song, but it was pretty he supposed, if one was into that sort of thing.

" _Because I can't make you love me if you don't… You can't make your heart feel something it won't… Here in the dark, in these final hours, I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power, but you won't… No, you won't… 'cause I can't make you love me if you don't._ "

Maybe it was because Arthur had never been in love with anyone before, but it was hard to make the song mean anything to him. He was pretty sure he was more likely to be the one the song was being sung to, but even that was doubtful since his previous one-night-stands hadn't really been interested in staying afterwards.

Robert just had a gift, Arthur supposed, to pour every last bit of his heart and soul into a piece. It broke Arthur's tiny heart just to watch him sing it. It really was no surprise that Robert wasn't completely impressed with Arthur's performance.

"Come on, Arthur, you've got to make me feel it."

"Seemed like you felt it just fine without me," Arthur shrugged. "Sorry, Rob, but I guess I just don't know how to connect to it."

"It's called _acting_. You should pretend the song is about you, even if it's not, you know? You know how to act, don't you?"

Arthur just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders again. He wondered how Robert would feel if he knew that Arthur was acting right now, every day, all the time.

"Well, forget it," Robert said, stacking the sheet music and putting it away. "Let's do something else instead."

Within the next half hour, Arthur was starting to understand the fun behind music as he and Robert wailed out The Beatles' "Come Together." Of course, by then all of their technique had gone out the window (at least on Arthur's end—Robert seemed to have it down to a very impressive art form). Arthur definitely felt the stress of the last week seep out of him as he stomped across desks wailing out, " _He come old flat top, he come groovin' up slowly_." He'd never quite unwound before, and he thought it was possible to get used to this.

That was, of course, until he turned around in the middle of shouting, " _Come together! Right now! Over me_ ," and discovered Eames leaning in the doorway and sporting a Cheshire cat grin.

"Oh, pardon me," Eames said lightly, seeming to get an insane amount of delight out of the abrupt stop to the song. "I just thought I heard a bit of a ruckus. Didn't mean to interrupt."

Arthur quickly scrambled to get off of the desk he was standing on, face burning in embarrassment. He was quickly remembering why he didn't cut loose like that on most occasions. It was vital in his job to never let anyone see him sweat.

"Sorry," Arthur mumbled, straightening his tie and pushing his glasses up on his nose. "We were just having a little fun."

"Good to know," Eames said. "I was beginning to think you weren't capable of it, Darling."

Arthur rolled his eyes. As he did so, he noticed Robert raising his eyebrows. "I'm beginning to think you're following me, sir."

"Not at all," Eames assured. "I heard the music, and it takes a much stronger man than myself to resist the Beatles."

Robert snorted. "That's the only Beatles song Arthur even knows."

Eames scoffed, looking at Arthur in shock. "For _shame_ , Darling! I know it's not your generation, but it's still one of the greatest bands alive."

"It's not your generation either, Mr. Eames," Arthur reminded. "I'm not much of a music buff I'm afraid. Sorry to disappoint you."

Eames laughed, ruffling Arthur's hair. Arthur was entirely too aware of the calluses on the pads of his fingers, wanted to feel them under his tongue. "No worries. You're still young. All joking aside, you boys were doing quite a nice job. I had no idea you were so talented."

"Thanks," Robert said shyly.

"I'm really not," Arthur immediately added. "Rob's the talented one. He was just showing me the ropes. I don't normally do things like this."

"Arthur's got the talent, but he lacks training and doesn't know how to cut loose," Robert snorted.

"That's even more shameful, Darling," Eames said, turning his eyes on Arthur again, and Arthur couldn't help but realize they were standing awfully close to one another. "You really ought to have more fun in life, you know? You never know when your last day will be."

"I don't think I've got anything to worry about unless someone tries to kill me," Arthur said with a smirk. Arthur saw Robert swallow and look away awkwardly out of the corner of his eye. "Are you planning on killing me, Mr. Eames?"

"Well, you never know," Eames shrugged. "I might go crazy and come after you. Anything could happen."

"Yeah, well," Arthur said, but abruptly decided against continuing the banter when he noticed Robert shift uncomfortably. "Um… me and Rob have got to go meet Yusuf, so uh… I'll see you at the Outing Club meeting tomorrow, Mr. Eames."

"Looking forward to it," Eames said, smiling warmly. The grin made Arthur feel tingly all over. "Have a good day, boys."

Arthur nodded, unable to help but smile back, and then he found himself being dragged out of the room by Robert. Arthur hadn't realized how bothered Robert had been by his and Eames's exchange until he said, "What the hell was that?"

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "Eames?"

"You couldn't have been more obvious if you were sitting in his lap, Arthur, damn. You're aware he's a teacher, right?"

"What the hell are you saying?" Arthur complained. "I was just being friendly."

"Yeah, a little _too_ friendly," Robert said skeptically.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Arthur, I'm serious," Robert said. "I'm warning you. You should stay away from him. I mean, who's to say he's on a high enough moral ground to not take advantage of you?"

"Take advantage?" Arthur snorted. "Rob—"

Robert immediately interrupted. "It's not nonsense, if that's what you're thinking. Rumor has it that he was fired from the last school he worked at for having a relationship with a student."

That very nearly stopped Arthur in his tracks completely. "I'm sorry, what? No way!" Arthur exclaimed.

"I'm just telling you what I heard, and I'm telling you, Arthur, teachers don't act like that with their students."

"You're overreacting," Arthur said, shoving his way into the dining hall.

It didn't take long to find Yusuf who was grabbing a slice of chocolate cake as a snack and looking very displeased. Arthur figured it was because he'd ditched him instead of heading over to the girl's academy with him, but when he saw Robert and Arthur he didn't look angry, only strained.

"Oh, hey," he said glumly. "Wish you guys had been around earlier."

"Did you get rejected by one of the girls?" Robert asked. "There are plenty of other fish, you know."

"No, nothing like that," Yusuf sighed. "I never actually managed to make it over there, honestly. I spent my afternoon locked in a broom closet. Miss Mal found me and let me out at least."

"Oh, my God," Arthur said, mildly stunned. "Yusuf, shit, I should've been there."

Yusuf shrugged, resigned, apparently used to this sort of thing. "Why? So you could be trapped in there with me? They put a chair under the knob so I couldn't get out. There was nothing to be done. At least I didn't miss class."

Arthur drooped a little, unable to help but feel guilty. "I'm still sorry, man."

Yusuf shrugged a second time. "Take it up with your Biology buddy Kevin. It was his friends who threw me in there."

Arthur looked at Robert who just mouthed an 'I don't know'. "I will talk to him," Arthur told Yusuf. "I will."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 6

On Saturday, Arthur found himself gathering at the edge of the woods on the school's property with a handful of other boys. He'd been a bit disgusted with Cobb's choice of 'teen clothes' for Arthur to wear on the weekends, finding the jeans entirely too tight and not recognizing the references being made on his t-shirts. He supposed they were at least a little more comfortable than the school uniform.

He had forgotten about the clothes by the time he'd arrived in any sense, since by then he'd noticed Kevin standing amongst the group of boys he barely knew. He hadn't forgotten about what had happened to Yusuf the day before, and he'd promised that he'd talk to Kevin about it. Apparently this club was offering up a perfect opportunity. He just hoped Kevin would listen to him.

Admittedly, it was a bit weird that he even cared. After all, he'd only met Yusuf a week ago and he'd given less of a damn about people he'd known for years. Perhaps it wasn't even so much that he cared about Yusuf but about the fact that he was being picked on when he was defenseless. Maybe it was just a sense of justice that blossomed in him, though he'd never really given much of a damn about justice (he'd helped put away plenty of criminals committing illegal acts even if they were for the greater good and never lost a wink of sleep). Maddeningly he considered the concept that he actually really liked Yusuf's company. He'd been positive for years that he was better off on his own, that he didn't need anyone since no one needed him, but… and it was frighteningly possible… maybe this whole teenage-high school-camaraderie thing was rubbing off on him.

Arthur wasn't going to admit to anything like that, but he did promise he was going to talk to Kevin, and he wasn't the type to break a promise if he'd made it.

"All right, all right, gather around," Eames's voice cut through Arthur's thoughts. Arthur turned his head to see the man approach and very nearly tripped over the air.

 _Good sweet Lord_ , Arthur thought, fighting not to blush or drool. Eames was in a pair of baggy shorts and a tank top, and _fucking hell_ Arthur could see the tattoos winding around his arms in detail. Arthur felt the urge to bite and lick, and it was really impressive that he managed not to considering how Eames was looking more and more like something out of a very pornographic fantasy.

"Morning," Eames said cheerfully once he finished calling role. "I hope you boys are excited. I stand by the fact that sprogs these days don't know a bloody thing about nature, and I intend to use this club to change that. I hope everyone brought their sunscreen and a book to take notes in. It's good to see everyone wore proper footwear. Now, I need all of you to stay together and listen to the things I tell you because it might one day save your life, understand?"

From that point on they gathered together in a group and followed Eames into the cluster of trees. The weather was not too hot and not too cool, the sky clear. It was lovely out, and if Arthur was a nature buff he probably would have enjoyed it. He wasn't though, and even though Eames's smoky voice was sexy, it was hard for him to stay terribly interested in the lesson about tree bark and moss and leaves and whatnot. Arthur had learned all of these things in training, and it had been just as boring then.

Arthur instead wondered about Robert's rumor about Eames. Had the man really slept with a student? Well, no one had actually said that, but Arthur doubted anyone in a relationship with Eames would be able to resist him for long… It just seemed so bizarre, trying to imagine Eames doing such a thing. Sure, he was pretty young for a teacher, and he admittedly seemed a bit mischievous, but it just didn't seem like something Eames would do. Then again, Arthur really didn't know him that well, so who was he to judge?

In the end, Arthur figured it was just stupidly wishful thinking. As hot as Eames, was, he probably wouldn't be tapping that anytime soon.

Arthur sighed, wishing he had a cigarette, and casually let himself slip to the back of the group before he got too caught up looking at Eames's ass. He had more important things to do.

He fell into step with Kevin who was lumbering along near the back, scribbling notes in a notebook as Eames explained things. He smiled when he saw Arthur and immediately gave up on listening to the lesson. "Oh, hey, Artie," he greeted. Arthur despised the nickname, but he let it go for now. "This club is kind of lame isn't it? Mr. Eames is nice though."

"Yeah, I guess, uh," Arthur said, shoving his hands into his pockets, "hey, listen… Uh, your friends yesterday kind of trapped my roommate in a closet. You know anything about that?"

Kevin's expression fell, guilt flashing across his face. "Oh. Yeah. Yusuf, right? Yeah, I wasn't there for that. It's just a thing they do, you know? They didn't hurt him."

"No, not this time," Arthur said. "Maybe you could tell them to leave him alone?"

Kevin looked away, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "It's not that simple. I mean, I can't just tell them what to do. They're my friends."

"They're bullies," Arthur said flatly.

"Yeah, well… It's not like I really like them all that much, you know? I know they can be assholes sometimes, but their dads are friends with my dad and it's all really complicated. It's all part of the whole machine, I guess. I can't really be myself around them like I can with you." He offered Arthur a small smile. "That's why I really like having you for my lab partner. You're the least judgmental person I know."

Arthur was pretty sure Kevin had most definitely misread him, but he just looked away and mumbled, "Thanks."

"I could try and talk to them, but I don't think it'll make any difference. We've all got our parts to play, you know? If they even knew I hung out with you, they'd never let me live it down. No offense, but you're kind of a geek."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Just because I wear glasses doesn't make me a geek."

"It's just the parts we play, Artie."

Arthur couldn't exactly say anything about that. He was, after all, playing his own part of the teenage student. That wasn't to say that it didn't frustrate him though. He supposed he'd been lucky to not be under the nose of a parental figure when he was young, not having anyone try and force an ideal or state of mind on him.

"Okay," Eames's voice brought him out of his head again, "what we're going to do now is split up into teams of two, yeah? I want each group to go out and find five different types of leaves. I've got a list here for you to go off of with photographs." Eames handed the list out as well as a pair of pruning shears for each group. Kevin seemed to already have claimed Arthur as his partner, so there was nothing to be done but accept the materials.

Eames explained the rest of the lesson, but Arthur honestly faded in and out of the instructions as he got caught up staring at Eames's plush mouth. There was something ridiculously sexy about his crooked teeth.

"All right there, Darling?"

Arthur blinked and stared up at Eames, realizing he was being addressed. Eames smiled at him and again Arthur thought of the alleged student affair. Even if it had happened, it wasn't like Eames would be willing to go through that mess again… and why was Arthur even thinking about that? He couldn't just throw caution to the wind at an attempt at seduction even if he was technically legal to do whatever the hell he wanted with Eames. It wasn't Eames's job on the line if they were found out. Arthur couldn't risk blowing his cover. He had just gone so long without getting laid and had been constantly been reminded of such with Eames's stupid attractive face being paraded in front of him.

"Yes," Arthur breathed. "I'm fine."

"Good to hear," Eames said, and his smile seriously seemed to light up his face. "Get along now. We'll all meet back here in a half hour. I'm going to build all of us a campfire. Perhaps you can even lead us in a campfire song."

Eames winked and walked away, and Arthur was surprised to find his knees a little bit wobbly.

This was getting a little crazy.

* * *

They had only been walking for about ten minutes when Arthur realized he was going to have to do all of the work for this assignment. Kevin didn't seem all that interested in the work, instead just talking Arthur's ear off. Now that he knew Arthur wasn't too fond of his friends, Kevin couldn't seem to stop complaining about them. Arthur honestly didn't give a shit about the lesson either, but he cared even less about how annoying and awful Kevin's friends were. He tolerated both since he was playing the part of the good student and he had this bizarre longing to please Eames.

"They're such assholes, you know? Not like you, Artie. You're the nicest guy I know, and you're the smartest too. "

"I appreciate that, Kev, I really do," Arthur said long-sufferingly. "Can you help me out here? I've only found two different kinds of leaves or whatever."

"Oh, right," Kevin said, not seeming to notice Arthur's agitation. "Well, let's see. I mean, Mr. Eames told us not to go any further than the creek. Any further and we might not be heard if we shout."

"There aren't even that many trees out here. You can still sort of see camp even from here," Arthur mumbled.

"Oh, hey, I found one!"

Arthur turned back to find Kevin shimmying his way up a tree near the creek. "This is one of the ones he asked for. Want to get it off the tree so it'll be alive. Pretty sure that's why he gave us those shear-things."

"Y-yeah—but, we can find a tree with a lower branch," Arthur offered cautiously, "or maybe I should climb up there instead." Kevin was kind of heavy and lumbering after all. Arthur's svelte physique had always been advantageous to climbing in his line of work.

"I've got it," Kevin said, crawling onto a branch. Arthur could see it bend a little under the boy's weight, and he knew this couldn't end well. He knew he needed to think fast.

He turned his gaze away from Kevin and to the tree nearby, a branch just a little higher than Kevin's and crossing over. Arthur was pretty sure he could catch Kevin from there. If not, the creek didn't look extremely deep— deep enough not to bang their heads against the rocks but shallow enough to not be able to find the surface at least. It was manageable.

Arthur scaled the tree in no time flat just as he heard the branch snap under Kevin's weight. Arthur ran along his own branch and swung over the edge of it just in time to grab Kevin by the back of his shirt. His legs were hooked over the wood, body straining just a little he tried to pull the teen back up.

"Oh, my God," Kevin panted, looking up at Arthur with an ashen but relieved expression. "Artie, thank you so much—" he screamed as his shirt ripped in Arthur's hands and scrambled to grab hold of his arm. The sudden shift in weight threw Arthur off balance, and he found his legs coming unwrapped from the branch, sending them toppling down into the creek with a splash.

"Help! Help, I can't swim!" Kevin immediately shouted even though Arthur still had a hold of him (or rather Kevin was clinging to Arthur).

"Fucking relax!" Arthur shouted. "I've got you. Jesus, the water isn't even rough." He used his free arm to steer them back towards the shore of the creek, finding Eames and some of the other students running to their aid by then. Arthur hauled Kevin back onto the shore and was immediately swept up by Eames, his hair being brushed out of his eyes.

"Good Christ, I heard a scream, and—are you all right? Are you injured?" Eames asked, checking Arthur and Kevin over for wounds. He seemed to sag with relief when he discovered there were none to be found. "Oh bloody hell, what happened?"

"Arthur just saved my life!" Kevin exclaimed, overly loud from what was surely a rush of adrenaline.

"I really didn't," Arthur said, raising his hands. "It wasn't that deep and we didn't fall that far."

"He's just being modest," Kevin said. "He seriously just saved me. I didn't know you were so strong, Artie."

Arthur blinked and looked up at the branch he'd grabbed Kevin from. He'd just reacted, using the knowledge and skill he'd gained in his line of work. He hadn't really thought about how that could be suspicious. "Uh, I guess I just had an adrenaline rush."

"Come on, come on," Eames said, bustling them back towards camp. "Let's get you in front of the fire to dry. Are you sure you're all right? No injuries?"

"Fine," Arthur assured him. "We're both fine, Mr. Eames. You're not in danger of any lawsuits. It was just an accident."

"Yeah, I probably should have left the tree climbing to Arthur," Kevin offered awkwardly.

"I told you not to climb the trees," Eames sighed, settling them down on a log in front of the fire. "God, you look like drowned rats, don't you? I suppose this first assignment is a bit of a disaster."

Arthur snorted.

"Hey, now, Darling, don't give me that. You were the ones climbing trees when I told you not to."

Arthur smirked at him. "So sorry, Mr. Eames."

Kevin didn't seem to catch the teasing nature of Arthur's voice because he piped up with, "I'm sorry" as well.

"All that matters is that you're safe," Eames said and rubbed the top part of Arthur's arms for a moment before moving to stoke the fire. "What say we just forget the lesson for the day and make s'mores and tell stories?"

All the boys seemed game for that, and Arthur couldn't exactly disagree. He certainly didn't want to go on any more rescue missions.

Eames made sure that the two wet boys were sat on each side of him, throwing fluffy towels over them that he'd brought in his bag. Arthur didn't know if he was attracted to preparedness in general or if it was just because it was Eames. Either way, he felt oddly warm and tingly because of it, even if Eames hadn't necessarily had Arthur in mind when he'd packed everything.

Actually, Eames had helped him before though, hadn't he? Back in the library that night he'd sat down next to Arthur and guided him through his math assignment without ever making Arthur feel like a fool. Arthur had been so used to doing everything on his own that he hadn't really known how to feel about it at that time. He found himself unoffended by the assistance despite his independence, and even grateful. Eames was legitimately a good guy.

As they sat there roasting marshmallows, Arthur couldn't help but feel a welling up of actual admiration for Eames. He'd given more attention to Arthur's personal problems than all of his foster parents combined.

Arthur wasn't sure he'd ever felt quite like this. He didn't know what it was called, but it felt nice.

"Hey, Artie," Kevin whispered as soon as Eames got up to grab graham crackers and chocolate to put his marshmallow on. It took Arthur a moment to tear his eyes away from Eames.

"What? What is it?" Arthur asked.

"Thanks," Kevin said honestly, "for saving me. I'll do my best to get my friends to lay off Yusuf."

"Oh. Thank you," was all Arthur could say.

* * *

Arthur was still reeling from the events of the day when he returned to his dorm room. Yusuf immediately grinned at the sight of him, still a little soggy from his tumble into the river.

"Fun day?" Yusuf asked.

"Fuck off," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. He yanked his t-shirt over his head and tossed it on the pile of dirty clothes they had been making. "I might have fallen into the creek, but I rescued Kevin in the process so now he's going to get his friends to ease off of you."

Yusuf raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, we'll see how that works out, now won't we? So, do you want to take those clothes down to wash before Browning and Fischer Sr. get here, or—"

Arthur's head turned on his neck so quickly he was surprised it didn't snap right off. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Um. Duh, dormitory inspections," Yusuf said. "They happen every week. Didn't you read your packet?"

Arthur felt all of the blood run out of his face as he thought of the bag full of weapons he'd brought along with him, sitting prettily in the trunk at the food of his bed. He'd brought them as a precautionary method, just in case he needed to up and run. He always wanted to be prepared, and now he felt like he was going to shoot himself in the foot. If there was a room inspection, they'd surely _find_ them, and how the fuck was he supposed to explain it?

"So, you didn't read the packet," Yusuf answered for himself.

"Of course not!" Arthur cried. "It was all school-themed jargon. I didn't think any of it was actually all that important."

Yusuf snorted, grinning. He didn't seem to understand how not funny this situation was (but then again, why would he?). "So, what are you stashing that you're afraid they're going to find?"

"None of your business," Arthur said immediately and then realized he couldn't have been more obvious if he'd said 'nothing'. He busied himself with throwing some dry clothes on rather than comment on it

"Well, what are you going to do?" Yusuf asked. "I'm not exactly sure where you could stash your weed or pornography or whatever and have them not find it. They're bloody thorough, I promise you."

Arthur ran his hands through his hair, scanning the room. Yusuf had a point, and that very nearly caused his panic mode to activate. Then he spotted the air vent above his bed.

"What about up there?" he asked, pointing.

Yusuf raised an eyebrow and looked up. "You want to hide it in the air vents," he said flatly. "What, is this some sort of spy movie?"

"Well, I don't want to get in trouble," Arthur said. Yusuf couldn't know just how much trouble he could get into not just with the school but with the government and with Cobb. He couldn't even imagine the kind of repercussions being discovered with these highly advanced weapons would bring about. "Do you have a screwdriver?"

Yusuf rolled his eyes and dug in his desk until he retrieved a small one. "This is never going to work."

Arthur climbed onto his bed and unscrewed the metal door on the vent before peeking inside to make sure it didn't climb too high for him to fit the bag inside. It was definitely going to be a tight fit, but it would work for a temporary hiding place. Well, perhaps _would_ wasn't quite the right word. It _had to_ because Arthur really didn't have any other choice unless he planned to take it out and bury it in the woods somewhere (and he was pretty sure he didn't have the time for that right now).

"All right," Arthur said, hopping down and then hesitating with his hand on the lock of his trunk. "Actually, they wouldn't be able to get into this, right?"

"They make you unlock it," Yusuf said. "Of course people hide their things in locked boxes."

Arthur sighed and unlocked the trunk, lifting the lid and grabbing the bag carefully, hoping it didn't clank around too much.

"What's even in there?" Yusuf asked.

"Honestly?" Arthur said awkwardly, thinking fast. It had to be something Yusuf wouldn't want to look into. "It's… my porn stash."

"For real?" Yusuf said. "Well, let's have a look—"

"It's all gay porn," Arthur added, and that knocked the wind out of Yusuf's sails, thankfully. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He climbed back onto the bed and shoved the bag into the vent. It took a lot longer than he would have liked, but somehow he managed it, and just as he was screwing the door on it shut, there was a knock on the door.

"They must have started on our floor," Yusuf said.

Arthur climbed off the bed and nodded. Yusuf opened the door and in walked Peter Browning with Maurice Fischer on his heels. Arthur once again felt like the man was glaring at him, but he stayed quiet.

"Afternoon, boys," Maurice said.

"Good afternoon, sir," Yusuf and Arthur said simultaneously, standing off to the side.

"You know the drill," Browning explained, seeming a lot less interested than Maurice was. Apparently he felt this was a big waste of time. "Pull out your pockets."

They did as told, Arthur trying not to roll his eyes, and he watched as they looked over their room for what they referred to as 'suspicious or obscene material'. Arthur seriously doubted any of the kids at this school had drugs or porn in their rooms. Teenagers generally had the better sense to hide it somewhere where it wouldn't be found (or at least they did in Arthur's day). He knew he and Yusuf certainly didn't have any drugs or porn to hide, but he did make sure not to look at the vent and tip them off. At least he knew how to remain calm under pressure.

The search of the room took about twenty minutes, and when nothing was found Browning seemed satisfied. For some reason, Fischer did not. He studied Arthur with a sneer and mumbled, "You pass," before following Browning out to check the next room.

Arthur exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face in relief.

"Man, what is Fischer's problem with you?" Yusuf asked, cocking an eyebrow. "They don't normally do the inspections themselves. I mean, sometimes Browning does, but never Fischer. He's technically retired, you know? Weird… Oh! Maybe he thinks you're going to turn his son gay."

Arthur looked at Yusuf flatly and then shoved him before leaving the room to go grab dinner.

"It was just a joke!" Yusuf called after, laughter still in his voice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 7

On Tuesday, Arthur awoke in the middle of the night with a gasp. He sat up in the darkness of his room, mind whirring over the image he'd conjured in his dream, trying to hang onto it as it slipped away like grains of sand through his fingers.

Something about Maurice Fischer… and gun shots…

He shook himself. It was already gone.

Arthur turned his gaze on Yusuf who was snoring loudly from his side of the room and decided quickly that getting back to sleep wasn't going to be easy with that amount of noise. He pulled on a jacket and walked outside, standing in the hall and dialing his cell phone.

It took about nine rings before someone finally answered. Cobb's sleepy voice came over the line, "Hello? Yeah, what is it?"

"Cobb," Arthur said, moving his way down the hall. "You said you'd keep me in the loop. I haven't heard a peep out of you. I'm always the one making the calls. What the hell?"

"There's nothing really to tell," Cobb said, and Arthur could picture him scrubbing a hand over his face. "Is now really the time to talk about this? Something got you spooked?"

Arthur hesitated, then sighed, running a hand through his hair as he slipped out of the building onto the passageway that led to the stairs. "Just… it's nothing, just this weird feeling I have."

"Those weird feelings of yours haven't let me down before," Cobb said.

Arthur wished he hadn't smoked all of his cigarettes before the end of the first week. He figured he could really use one right now. "Look into Maurice Fischer. See if there's anything suspicious in his background. It's just a precautionary thing."

"I'll get on it first thing in the morning," Cobb said. "I'll call if I find anything. Can I go back to bed now?"

"Yeah, sure," Arthur mumbled and hung up. He slipped the phone into his pocket and looked out across the grass. For a moment he swore he saw someone moving across the lawn, but that had to have been his imagination.

Still, it couldn't help to check.

He moved stealthily down the steps and kept to the walls as much as he could manage, keeping his hood up on his jacket to help shroud him in darkness. By the time he'd arrived at the fountain, he could no longer see the shadows shifting, but he had a feeling that if anyone was to go anywhere, they'd find what they were looking for in the main hall. He glanced around a few times for security and then slipped up the stairs to the door and sneaking inside.

Finding that the door was unlocked already set Arthur's apprehension into high gear. He couldn't help but wish he'd gone out into the woods where he'd buried his bag of weaponry after the inspection (he couldn't let that slip through his fingers again). He stayed calm though, keeping his steps soft as he moved down the hall. He didn't see anyone ahead of him, and a quick check revealed that all of the classroom doors had been locked. Maybe he really had imagined it.

He was just about to turn back and go back to bed when down Hall C he heard a _sound_. It was just a small sound, like a door being quietly shut, but that was all Arthur's adept ears needed. He moved quickly, his brain racing over what kinds of things he could use to protect himself should it come to that when one of the doors opened unexpectedly and he found himself colliding with another body hard enough that it sent them both to the floor.

Papers fluttered through the air as Arthur sat up and looked down to find a very startled looking Eames being straddled. "Arthur?" Eames questioned, surprised and very confused.

"Oh," Arthur said, cheeks burning as he realized—of course it was a teacher. Of course it was Eames. It wasn't even weird for him to be in the building, for him to have access to a key to unlock the front door. Arthur's stupid, spooked, agent brain had immediately conjured some villain, but now it all seemed so obvious. Embarrassment flooded over him, and he had no idea how to explain himself.

Oh, and there was the fact that he was still sitting on Eames's crotch.

Arthur scrambled to his feet and then took a few steps back, watching awkwardly as Eames stood as well. Eames looked around at the mess of papers scattered around them and then turned his gaze on Arthur. "What the bloody hell are you doing out of your room at this hour? It's well after curfew."

Arthur looked at the floor guiltily. "I… I saw something in the dark. That is, I woke up and went to get some air, and I saw someone moving through the dark. I thought I should go investigate it. I guess I wasn't thinking."

"No," Eames sighed, kneeling down to pick up the papers. "No, you definitely weren't. Darling, we've got security here, tall gates and brick walls. No one unsavory is going to get in here without it being known about."

Arthur crouched to help Eames. "What if someone unsavory already was? One of the students or the staff even?"

He wasn't sure why he had asked. It had slipped out of him unexpectedly, and he couldn't help but think about Cobb's mention about Arthur's hunches usually leading him in the right direction.

Eames's hand stilled, and he looked towards Arthur, expression unbearably honest. Any of the annoyance he'd had over discovering Arthur at this hour was gone. "Darling, is somebody harassing you? Is someone making you feel unsafe or uncomfortable?"

"No," Arthur said, handing Eames the papers he'd stacked. "I guess I'm just naturally paranoid, you know? There's a lot of people on campus. Statistically, at least some of them have to be seedy."

The corner of Eames's mouth quirked up into a smile. "You really are something, Darling. Your mind works in interesting ways. It does make me wonder what has created this mistrust of the world around you though."

"No one's ever given me a reason to trust them wholeheartedly, I guess," Arthur shrugged, not realizing until after he'd said it how revealing that was about himself. He hadn't even been consciously aware of it until after it was out in the open.

"That's so very sad," Eames said, and on anyone else it would have sounded horribly sarcastic. Arthur could tell that Eames meant every single word of it. "I suppose I can understand how people can let you down, but I certainly hope you don't lose faith in all of us, Arthur. We humans are flawed, but I think we've got potential."

"You say that like I'm some sort of alien or robot," Arthur snorted. "You're the one who said you could go crazy and kill me, so what makes you think I can trust you?"

Eames settled a warm hand on Arthur's shoulder and squeezed it. "That's something you'll have to decide for yourself, I suppose. Let me walk you back to your room. Promise you won't go sneaking around the grounds again?"

"I can promise you anything you want," Arthur said smugly. "It doesn't mean I'll follow the rules."

"Fucking teenagers," Eames said, laughing, then paused. "Please disregard that I just said the word fucking. Twice."

"I won't tell a soul as long as you don't tell anyone I was sneaking out after curfew."

"Deal."

They walked back across the yard in a comfortable silence, the moon high above them. Arthur found himself continually sneaking little glances at Eames the entire way back, catching himself two seconds too late. As they reached the stairs that led up to his floor, Arthur couldn't help but stop and turn towards Eames.

"Eames," he said hesitantly. "Listen, um… there's this rumor going around about you, and I was kind of… well, it's not like I care or anything, but I'm curious."

Eames's expression fell a little and he sighed. "I have a feeling I know exactly what you're talking about," he said, sitting down on the second step. Arthur joined him a moment later. "This is about that whole teacher-student relationship thing, yeah?"

"Well, it's not _true_ … Is it?"

Arthur felt a bit mad for hoping that it was.

"No, it's not," Eames said firmly. "It was… this whole complicated thing. This girl, she… she was flunking out of my class and tried to come onto me in an effort to get me to raise her grade. I refused her, but she turned it around on me and started accusing me of being the one who came onto her. It grew into this big kerfuffle and while I was able to convince the staff of my innocence, not all of the parents agreed. As a precaution, they let me go, so that's what brought me here… I shouldn't even be telling you this. I can't believe I'm telling you this."

"What's wrong with you telling me? Seems to me like you have the right to set the story straight, right?" Arthur offered. "Pardon my French, but that's bullshit, Eames."

"I don't believe that's French, Darling," Eames smirked. "Yes, I do have the right to set the story straight if I find it necessary, but people are going to believe what they want to believe no matter what I say. That was why I lost my job in the first place. It doesn't matter that I never had a relationship with that girl or the fact that even if she had been legal I wouldn't have been interested. People around town knew I was gay, but they still believed her story over mine."

Arthur spluttered, "You're gay?" before he could stop himself.

Eames chuckled and nodded. "Yes, I am. Funny, you're one of the few people who I've told that was surprised. That puts you on the very short list of my father and my ex-girlfriend Nicole."

"It's—no, it's not that I'm surprised," Arthur stammered. "I mean, that is, uh—well, I guess it just caught me off guard because you're a teacher and as a student I guess I kind of shut off any sexual-related things when it comes to you."

Arthur sort of wished he could tell that to his wet dreams. It had to be illegal for Eames to be that good-looking, on display, and completely off limits.

"Understandable," Eames said, nodding. "It's sometimes easier for students to pretend their teachers aren't human so that they can vehemently dislike them without guilt. I certainly hope that's not how you feel about me though."

Arthur couldn't believe how his cheeks burned at that. Eames hadn't said anything in particular that should have emitted that kind of response. Arthur was positive he was going crazy. "I don't feel that way," Arthur said softly. "You're easier to get along with than a lot of the kids here." It was the truth, and the strangest part was that Arthur didn't think it was only because he was so much older than his so-called peers. He just seemed to _click_ with Eames, and that was even more bizarre because he generally didn't click with anyone.

"Oh, Darling," Eames laughed. "You wouldn't like me nearly so much if I was allowed to tell you when you were being a git. Being a teacher, you can see how that'd be detrimental to my job."

Arthur didn't even realize he was smiling back until Eames poked a finger into one of his dimples. "How are the girls not falling all over you for that smile? I can't believe you were smoking and risking damaging that lovely smile."

Arthur was tempted to ask Eames if he was trying to seduce him (because frankly he was succeeding), but he decided it was for the best not to open that can of worms. Instead he just stood and said, "Goodnight, Mr. Eames."

"Sweet dreams, Arthur," Eames said cheerily.

Arthur locked himself in the bathroom and jerked off before going back to bed.

* * *

Kevin wouldn't let Arthur forget how he'd rescued him (Yusuf wouldn't either, although his joy sprouted from the aftermath rather than the act itself). It seemed that in Biology class, it was all Kevin would talk to Arthur about. He was constantly praising him with "Artie, you're so smart" or "Artie, you're amazing" or some variation. Frankly, it was annoying, but Arthur just gritted his teeth and bared it. Yusuf had quite firmly told him when Arthur complained that Kevin could be pulling Arthur's underwear up over his head or cramming him into a trash can and holding down the lid. Arthur supposed it could always be worse.

Eventually it became easy enough to tune Kevin out anyway because Arthur's thoughts were elsewhere. It seemed that the longer he was at this school, the more his thoughts became consumed with Eames. There was just something about him that made it hard for Arthur to focus on anything else when he was around. At first Arthur was sure that it was just building sexual frustration (even though he'd gone longer without than this). Seeing someone that attractive all the time was bound to get distracted, after all… but the thing was that he didn't find himself thinking sexual thoughts about him all the time. Sometimes it was just marveling at his charm or intelligence. Arthur couldn't stop thinking about that quirky little grin and the way his voice seemed to purr whenever he spoke. Arthur actually fantasized about _spending time with him_ , going shopping or just sitting and talking. It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever experienced.

Eames wasn't exactly helping matters by seeming to be around literally all the time. Arthur was constantly passing him in the halls to the sounds of, "All right there, Darling?" and all he could do was smile over his shoulder at him. He'd stare after him in the lunchroom longingly enough that even Yusuf was commenting on it. Arthur really wasn't sure how he was fooling anyone. He was being so obvious.

He had a _crush_ on Mr. Eames.

This whole 'being surrounded by teenagers' thing really was detrimental to his state of mind, apparently. He just hoped he'd get over it soon.

"—Artie. Artie? You in there?"

Arthur jolted as he was pulled out of his daydream by Kevin nudging him. He looked at the boy a bit wide-eyed.

"Class is over," Kevin said. "Are you coming?"

"Oh. Yeah, yeah, I'm… yeah."

Kevin lingered for a moment, and Arthur realized he was waiting for him. They generally didn't walk together after class (since Kevin's friends wouldn't approve), so Arthur wasn't really sure what he was waiting for. He raised an eyebrow at him as he shoved a book into his backpack, but Kevin just shifted from foot to foot.

"Um," Arthur started, but Kevin interrupted.

"Could you maybe meet me here after classes are over later tonight? I need to talk to you about something. Something really important."

Arthur was confused, but he figured it had to do with the project they had been assigned earlier that day in class so he just nodded and said, "Sure."

Relief flooded over Kevin's face, and then he scurried out of the classroom before Arthur could ask any more questions.

Arthur probably should have noticed something weird about it, but he had other things on his mind.

* * *

Arthur mentioned Kevin's strange behavior to Robert and Yusuf over lunch. Yusuf's mind immediately went in the direction of violence.

"He's going to bloody beat you to a pulp," Yusuf said surely. "He's been playing the nice guy card to lure you into a false sense of security so he can massacre you."

"I highly doubt that Kevin is intelligent enough to put that sort of plan into action," Robert said flatly. "He probably is just really worried about his grade in Biology. Maybe he wants some private tutelage or something and he doesn't want his friends to find out."

"I don't know," Arthur said, pushing his food around on his plate as he stared out across the cafeteria. Eames was grabbing his own lunch, and he was wearing his glasses today, and Arthur had dreamed about running his tongue over the tattoos on his chest last night. It wasn't an image that wasn't easy to get out of his mind.

"You think you could stare any harder, mate?" Yusuf asked. "Fuck, I can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes. You're setting yourself up for disaster, you know."

Robert looked over his shoulder in the direction Arthur was watching. "I thought I told you to stay away from him. Come on, Arthur, really? A teacher?"

"Oh, fuck off," Arthur grumbled, shoveling a bite of macaroni and cheese into his mouth. "I can't help it if he's attractive. It's not like I plan to make a move on him or something. Let me enjoy the view."

"Just don't drool all over the table. You couldn't be more obvious."

"Shut up," Arthur said, nudging Yusuf with his elbow. "Do you want me to come with you this weekend to try and get you a date to the dance or not?"

God, what was his life becoming that he was talking about crushes and dances?

"The dance isn't for another few weeks," Robert said. "You're trying to hop on the date train a little early, don't you think?"

"I'm going to need to," Yusuf explained. "I'm not exactly the best catch, after all, and I want to make sure I have a date before all of the girls hook up with someone else. I was dateless last year, may I remind you. It's just embarrassing."

"I don't plan on going," Robert said. "I think dances are stupid. I honestly don't see why you bother."

"It's the one night of the year where we're surrounded by _girls_ ," Yusuf snorted. "You don't think that sounds incredible?"

"Not particularly. I think I'd prefer a night with a piano than a woman, but then again I'm more career-oriented than you," Robert teased, expression turning smug.

Yusuf huffed. "Well, _excuse_ me. I didn't know the piano was vital to your father's business deals."

Robert visibly wilted. "Yeah, well… it isn't but I can still pretend a little longer."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Why don't you just do what you want to do, Rob? If you want a music career you should go for it. You've got the talent."

"Actually," Robert said, sipping at his water bottle, "I always wanted to be in musical theatre. Broadway, you know? But no, I don't have the talent. I'm not good enough to manage that, especially considering if I were to refuse to go into Fischer-Morrow my entire inheritance would be ripped out from under me. I'd never be able to afford to live, and I'm sure my father would make it even more difficult for me every step of the way until I came crawling back, and then he'd make me run the company and still not give me my inheritance."

"Fucking hell, man," Yusuf said, shaking his head. "Glad my father's not so much of a prat, right Arthur?"

"Now is the time that I remind you that my real father is dead," Arthur reminded.

"Now I feel like you're both just trying to make me feel bad," Yusuf complained.

* * *

At seven, Arthur found himself heading toward his science class rather than the library like usual. He hoped this wouldn't take too long since he still had a math test to study for. Oh, how he longed for the days when the things he was facing down involved something a little more treacherous than numbers on paper. He was so ready to be done with this place.

He found that the classroom was lit up even though all of the others were dark and Kevin was waiting nervously inside. Arthur looked around suspiciously when he stepped inside. "Um… so what's going on? Everything all right? I brought my Biology book if there's something you need to go over—"

"It's not about class," Kevin said awkwardly. "Um… it's uh… it's about you."

Arthur set his book down on one of the tables. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, no, you didn't," Kevin said, taking a couple of steps forward. "I just um… I wanted to talk to you about… _us_."

"Us?" Arthur asked skeptically. "What do you mean by 'us'? Do you want to like… change lab partners or something because—"

Kevin silenced Arthur by grabbing him by the biceps and kissing him. Arthur barely managed to shove him off and scramble away in shock. "What are you _doing_?" he shouted.

"I want you," Kevin stammered, reaching for Arthur again. "I know you're like me. The whole school talks about it because you hang out with Fischer, and everyone talks about how he likes to wear women's clothes. I know it's wrong, and I know it's forbidden, but no one has to know about us, so let's just—"

Arthur jerked away as Kevin grabbed for him. "Let's just _what_ exactly? What the hell? Did you expect to just grab me and have your way with me or something?"

"But… you're gay," Kevin said.

"Irrelevant!" Arthur yelled. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm automatically interested in you! What the fuck made you think that was okay?"

"…but… you saved me…"

"Of course I did! You're a friend—or at least you were! Christ, is that the only reason you were being nice to me? To get into my pants? Fucking hell!"

"No—well… Artie—"

"My name is _Arthur_. Not Artie. Find yourself a new lab partner. I'm done."

He grabbed his book and started for the door. Kevin grabbed him by the arm, but Arthur yanked it away and made a run for it down the hall. Behind him, he heard Kevin shout, "Fine! Go ahead and run, faggot!"

Arthur knew he could beat the hell out of Kevin effortlessly with the various martial arts training he'd received through his job, but he was pretty sure that would blow his cover. Besides, he'd just been kissed by a boy who wasn't even legal—even if he'd been kissed against his will, if that got around he'd still end up taking the fall.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,_ _ **fuck**_ , Arthur cursed internally. How did his life become a mess so quickly? God, he could still taste the boy on his mouth. It had been so innocent, and yet he felt so fucking violated. Arthur had never let anyone take anything from him without his permission, but he had never expected Kevin to—and since when did he become so naïve and trustworthy anyway? This school was ruining his trained brain, making him vulnerable. He had never let himself be vulnerable in his entire life.

Arthur's thoughts came to a screeching halt when the rest of him slammed into a body coming out of one of the rooms. He didn't even realize what hall he was on, but he did recognize the voice that said, "Whoa, Darling, where's the fire?"

Arthur pulled back from Eames, panting. "I- I'm sorry, I just… I um…"

"Hey… hey…" Eames said softly, brushing some of Arthur's hair off of his forehead. "Come on, let's go have a sit down in my office. You look really shaken up. Come on, come in and sit down, okay?"

It was Eames. Arthur couldn't exactly refuse.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 8

Eames led Arthur into a tiny office cram packed with a stuffy couch that smelled of mothballs and a large oak desk absolutely a mess with papers. Eames shut the door and the room obtained a muted, almost cozy feeling as the sounds of the school vanished instantly.

Arthur felt the urge to drop into the couch and cry, but that wasn't something he did. He was an adult after all, and nothing _that_ bad had happened. He honestly wasn't sure why he was so upset.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" Eames asked, settling his hands on Arthur's shoulders, squeezing them gently. "Something must spooked you."

"It's nothing," Arthur mumbled. "It's just… I've had a rough week I guess. It was just an awkward—it's nothing. Nothing to worry about, anyway. I don't even know why I'm acting this way."

"Why don't you sit down for a moment, hm?" Eames offered. "Just take a breather."

Arthur sighed, letting Eames lead him to the couch and sit him down. He was surprised to find that Eames didn't go behind the desk but instead sat down next to him, rubbing Arthur's arm in a comforting gesture. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Eames said. "Do you need anything though? I can get you a glass of water or go down to the dining hall and grab you something to eat. God knows you need it. You're so thin."

"I'm fine, really," Arthur said, offering a sheepish grin at Eames's effort. "I could go for a cigarette, but I'm good. Can I just stay in here for a few minutes?"

"Of course," Eames said. "Feel free to come here anytime. My door is always open to my students—unless they want the door closed that is." Eames got to his feet and unlocked a drawer of his desk and a moment later revealed a pack of his brand of cigarillos Arthur had caught him with that day in the bathroom. "I don't condone this, but I'll let it slide this once, provided I get to smoke one too. I swear to you that I haven't touched the blasted things since you caught me."

Arthur generally didn't smoke cigarillos, never had a taste for cigars, but he accepted the offer gratefully. Eames took one out of the pack for himself and lit both of them with a lighter he'd grabbed from his desk as well, and soon enough the room was filled with the smell. Arthur slumped against the back of the couch and chuckled. "What's up with this couch? It looks like something that would sit in the parlor of some old woman."

"Well, if you must know, it was my grandmother's," Eames scoffed but smiled afterward. "It is pretty frilly and old-fashioned, I know, but it's comfortable. My home back in London is full of the stuff."

"Is that where you go when the school year is over?" Arthur asked. "Back to London?"

Eames nodded. "Of course. If I could afford it, I'd travel over the summer, but Dorothy wasn't lying when she said there's no place like home. I'm sure you miss your home too, yeah?"

Arthur was silent for a moment before replying with, "I don't really have a home to miss."

Eames cocked an eyebrow at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Arthur realized his mistake and spluttered to recover. "Well, uh… I mean, yeah I have a house to go back to." He had a few different apartments in different areas of the world, actually. "It's just, I'm not really… there's not really anyone there to make it home."

"You don't live with your parents?"

"My _actual_ parents are dead. I was—I've been in the foster care system for a long time now."

Eames raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh," he said. "Well, that's a right shame."

"It doesn't bother me," Arthur shrugged. "I'm doing just fine on my own."

"I never said that you weren't, Darling, but you say that like it's an insult to need someone."

"It's not an insult—just a sign of weakness. If you don't have anyone close to you, no one can really hurt you. My body can be injured, but nothing can rattle my core."

"Well, you looked a bit rattled to me tonight," Eames said. "Having people you care about isn't a weakness, you know. It's a strength. You're proving to me right now. You don't have anyone to need, so no one needs you. Don't you think that's a bit damaging to your self-worth?"

"There's nothing wrong with my self-worth," Arthur scoffed, puffing on his cigarillo to avoid eye contact with Eames.

"You basically just told me that nothing can rattle you because no one can go after your loved ones since you don't have them. Either you're so egotistical you think no one can get to you, or you lack the pride in yourself you need to think it would matter if someone did. Which one is it, Darling?"

Arthur was quiet for several seconds, and even when he did manage to speak he only managed, "Um…"

Eames plucked Arthur's cigarillo out of his hand and put it out in the ashtray on the desk. "You need to take what I just asked you seriously, Arthur," Eames sighed. "You really need to think about that answer because neither of them bode well for you."

"I didn't come here to be lectured," Arthur complained.

Eames looked at Arthur sympathetically. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just want to make sure you're all right. You're so talented, Arthur, and so smart, but you like to pretend that you can't be harmed. There are people who care about you, Darling. Your friends don't want to see you hurt, and I don't want to see you hurt either. You have to put some faith in people to protect you."

"I don't need protection," Arthur said defiantly, getting to his feet. "I can take care of myself just fine. No one ever wanted to take care of me so I've done it myself my whole life, and I'm _fine_."

Eames stared up at him from his seat, pressing his own cigarillo into the ashtray. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Then why is it that you look so bloody heartbroken right now?"

Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but he found that he didn't have one. He stood there, gaping like a fish until Eames rescued him from it by getting up and taking Arthur by the shoulders. "Hey, now, none of that," Eames said. "It's all right. You're young and confused, a little immature… and you're scared, and it's understandable because this is a terrifying time in life. I was a terror when I was your age. You've got time to realize things about yourself, time to meet someone that you will know you can put your faith in."

Anger bubbled in Arthur's stomach even though Eames couldn't possibly know that Arthur was older than he was playing, that this 'terrifying time' he was talking about had ended for Arthur a long time ago. He was fuming over the fact that he'd been referred to as confused and immature and scared… but oddly enough he found that his rage was immediately dampened by an outpouring of _shame_ … because whether what Eames was saying was true or not, Eames believed it, and Arthur had to have acted in some way to make that so. Eames's opinion on Arthur's attitude shouldn't have bothered him, but it did, and Arthur had nothing to blame but the goddamned _crush_.

Worst of all, Eames insulting him (even if he hadn't meant it as such) did not deter his affection for the man in the slightest. Maddeningly, he found himself wanting to wrap his arms around Eames and let himself be held, and he'd never wanted that from anyone in his entire life.

Arthur needed to get away from this school and soon or Cobb would have to put him in the loony bin.

"Arthur," Eames said softly. "Don't look so upset, please? You're tugging my heartstrings. God, I've made a real mess, haven't I? I was hoping to make you feel better, and I think I've gone and made it worse."

"No… no, I'm fine," Arthur sighed. "It's just been a long day. I'm just tired."

Eames's smile was soft at the corners, and he slid a hand through Arthur's hair. "Yes, I imagine so. Do you want me to walk you back again?"

All Arthur could do was nod. He certainly didn't want to run into Kevin and be alone, mostly because he wasn't sure what he would do to the bastard. Besides, Eames's presence made him feel kind of fluttery and nice (as stupid as that was), and Arthur kind of wanted to feel that way right now.

He fell into step with Eames, unable to help but smile a little when Eames said, "We have _got_ to stop meeting like this. Honestly, people will begin to suspect we're up to something."

"Up to what exactly?" Arthur asked, smirking.

"Oh… I don't know," Eames said lightly. "I've been known to play a few practical jokes on the faculty on occasion. Perhaps the staff thinks I'm bringing you in on it and corrupting your delicate innocence."

"I'm not delicate, and I'm far from innocent."

Eames's eyes lit up. "Oh, really? What could you have possibly done that was so naughty?"

Arthur could think of a few things, but he couldn't exactly tell Eames about his breaking and entering spy work and his various sexual escapades now could he? For the moment he just smiled knowingly and said nothing.

"Oh, I see how it is," Eames chuckled. "You've got to keep a little bit of the mystery, I suppose."

"That's right," Arthur said, pushing open the front doors of the building to head out into the yard. Some of the students were still milling about, but Arthur ignored them in favor of Eames's company. He started telling Eames about his French class and how he seemed to be the only boy in class able to focus on the assignments.

"Ah, yes, Madame Miles is quite the dish for these randy teenagers," Eames agreed. "She's quite beautiful. Is that why you keep trying to win her approval, Darling?"

"Hardly. She's nice, but I actually genuinely like the French language."

"Ah, so no teacher crush for you, eh? Laser point focus on Arthur Darving."

Arthur's cheeks burned, and he found himself grateful for the blanket of night. "Did you ever have a crush on one of your teachers?"

"Oh, no, no. I went to a Catholic school as a boy. It was all old priests and nuns. Even if they hadn't been, I couldn't be arsed in relationships back then."

"Well… what about now?" Arthur asked. "Just out of curiosity. Does Mr. Eames have any gentleman callers?"

"It would be nice, but no, there are no gentleman callers for me. I've had a few love notes over the last couple of years, usually from one of the young ladies at the other academy. That's nothing but awkward considering what happened at the last school, but I suppose it's sort of flattering as well."

"So, you never got one from the boys? It must be so terrible to have a face that's attractive to women," Arthur teased.

"I live a troubled life indeed," Eames laughed, "but yes, I've gotten a couple of love letters from boys in the past, but it's dangerous to attempt here. It seems that a lot of the people here aren't as forward thinking as others. Most of the letters I've gotten from boys only came after I rescued them from some rather brutal hazing. They were more appreciative than in love."

"Love?" Arthur snorted. "Of course not."

"Oh, Darling, don't tell me you don't believe in love."

"Well… sure, I do. I mean, I know it exists. I don't think there's anyone for me though."

It felt good to just say something completely honest for once.

"Oh, I'm sure that there is someone for you, Arthur. It's like I said before, you've got to allow yourself to trust someone enough to let them in, and that's when you'll find love."

"Love is a waste of time…"

"When you feel it, you'll change your mind."

"Well," Arthur huffed, stopping at the entrance to the stairs of his dormitory, "what if I'm not capable of that? Of trusting someone? Of loving them?"

Eames's expression softened, and he reached out to touch Arthur's face—then seemed to think better of it and settled his hand on Arthur's shoulder instead. "You are, Darling. I promise you."

…and then Arthur said something he hadn't expected to say, much less to Eames.

He said, "No one's ever loved me."

Eames's brow furrowed, but before he could say anything Arthur excused himself with a soft goodnight. He hurried up the stairs and to his room and locked himself inside.

* * *

Arthur awoke to the sound of his room door slamming and found Yusuf returning from his study group and looking like he'd run to the dorm. "What did you _do_?" Yusuf cried.

Arthur sat up, rubbing an eye underneath his glasses (he hadn't bothered to take off any of his clothes, he remembered. He'd just thrown himself onto the bed). "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What am I _talking about_? I'm talking about how you tried to seduce Kevin in the Biology lab! The whole bloody school is talking about it!"

Arthur's jaw went slack in shock. It took far too long for his brain to come back online. "What?" he shouted. "Who told you that?"

"Everyone!" Yusuf exclaimed. "Arthur, _everyone_ knows. It spread like wild fire."

"It's not true! He came on to me!" Arthur jumped out of the bed and immediately started to pace. He was absolutely _mortified_. "They're saying it was me? Who the fuck—"

" _Kevin_ is telling everyone," Yusuf said sternly. "His little buddies came after me when I was on my way back here. I escaped, but… fuck, Arthur, this is _bad_. They're going to be merciless."

"He came on to _me_ ," Arthur said again. "He's just pissed off because I told him no. I can't fucking believe this."

"It doesn't matter if he came on to you. No one's going to believe someone like you over someone like him. Kevin doesn't fit the stereotypical profile of a homosexual, and even if they did think he was gay he's too big and scary to call him out on it."

There was a knocking on the door then, and both of them just stared at each other in panic until a voice said through the wood, "It's Robert. Let me in."

Arthur sighed, frustrated, and let Robert inside. "Let me guess. You just heard the rumor about me trying to get into Kevin's pants," Arthur said flatly.

"Of course I did," Robert said. "The whole dining hall was buzzing with it. I don't believe a word of it. What the hell is really going on here?"

Arthur scrubbed his hands over his face and sat down on his bed and explained exactly what had taken place right up until he had run out of the room. He was really regretting the fact that he didn't beat the daylights out of Kevin now. Arthur was actually thinking about going after him now and throwing his cover to the wind. Cobb could just send him some other place.

Pathetically, the only thing keeping him from doing just that was the fact that Eames was here. Despite what Cobb believed, Arthur was pretty sure he was safe from any assassins that might try to take him out for the reward money. No one had ever managed to even scratch him in the past. Cobb was being cautious to save his own skin, not Arthur's. Arthur had played along because he wanted to keep his job, but he'd gotten pretty fed up with this nonsense and radio silence on Cobb's end. At least Eames listened to him (even if he was lying). Eames gave a damn about how Arthur was feeling, so Arthur couldn't help but like him, and he didn't want to just up and leave him behind.

He was pretty sure that was weird, but he didn't have time to think about that right now. He clearly had more pressing matters to tend to.

"How long do you think this will take to blow over?" Arthur asked.

Robert frowned. "Do you really want me to answer that question?"

Arthur groaned, flopping down onto the bed. "Fucking _hell_."

"All I can suggest is that you keep your head down and try to avoid anyone who might try to shove your head into a toilet," Yusuf suggested.

"The music room is usually empty so it's a good place to hide if you need one," Robert added.

Arthur set his jaw. "I'm not _hiding_ from anyone. I haven't done anything, and I'm not afraid of them. They're not going to fucking do anything but talk anyway, right?"

"Maybe if you were Robert," Yusuf said gloomily. "Everyone's intimidated by him because of his dad. You and me though? We're fucked. Standing up to them isn't exactly an option since they could kick our asses and fighting is prohibited on school grounds."

"Then how the fuck do they get away with treating everyone like shit?"

"It's the power of money," Robert sighed. "All these assholes are of the trust-fund breed like myself. They can get away with whatever they want because their dads donate money to the school."

Arthur buried his face into his pillow and groaned. "Bullshit…"

"I know. It's awful," Robert sighed. "I hate it too, but that's the way it is. I'll do what I can to keep the heat down, but unfortunately I don't have a whole lot of power other than intimidation."

"More power than we have," Yusuf grumbled. "Shit… it sure was nice to be able to walk down the hall without getting my knickers pulled up over my head. So much for that."

Arthur pulled his pillow over his head. He didn't want to listen to it anymore. He just wanted to go to sleep so that he could wake up and find this nonsense to be a dream. He didn't want this charade to be any more miserable than it already was.

* * *

The next morning as Arthur walked to class, he definitely noticed that the air had shifted between him and his classmates. One thing was for sure, he was getting a lot more stares than he had expected. They weren't even subtle about it, whispering to each other or openly calling him names. Someone deliberately slammed against Arthur's shoulder as he passed him. Arthur did his best to ignore them. He actually found himself grateful for Calculus for once, and he didn't even regret skipping out on Biology for the day to camp out in the music room.

Just when Arthur thought the day couldn't get worse, a substitute was brought in for his Psychology class. Now, on top of the constant buzzing around him and insults and resisting the urge to find Kevin and give him a firm kick to the balls, he was worrying about why Eames wasn't there. He'd actually hoped Eames would be there so that he'd have someone to rant to about this insanity. He wondered where Eames was.

As he left Psychology, finding himself even more weary and unhappy than before, he found himself suddenly grabbed by both arms and lifted off of the floor. "What—what the fuck—" Arthur stammered as two of Kevin's hulking friends laughed and dragged him down the hall. Arthur struggled against their grip, knowing that if he were to use a proper technique he could escape them, but there was nothing he could do that wouldn't actually harm them severely. If he got kicked out of the school (or even if they went to look at his record) his job would hang in the balance. Cobb would be absolutely livid, and Arthur's cover would be blown, and it'd be a lot of chaos and paperwork.

The next thing he knew, he was being half carried, half hauled into the nearest bathroom. Arthur realized immediately what they were doing, but by then it was too late to stop.

"NO!" he cried out, but they tilted his body in the air so that his face was pointed towards the toilet bowl, and then his head was inside of it. One of the other boys flushed the toilet, and all Arthur could hear was water crashing around him. He mostly just focused on keeping his mouth closed.

It felt like it dragged on forever. They had to have flushed at least five times, and Arthur couldn't do anything but be grateful he'd chopped his hair off before coming here so it didn't get caught.

Finally, they pulled his head out, and he coughed and spluttered as they dropped his legs and left him in the stall, cackling loudly as they stepped back to admire their handiwork. "Maybe that'll help clean the gay off of you, fag," one boy (Arthur was pretty sure his name was Tyler) said. "Aren't you a pretty little bitch when you're wet?"

Arthur spit water into the toilet and turned to glare at the group of them, rage bubbling up inside of him and threatening to break free. He'd never been so disrespected in his whole life, and he just wanted to shriek and claw and bit and murder… but his job was all he had, and he couldn't lose that over anger. They weren't worth it.

He did manage to meet eyes with Kevin who was at the back of the group. Arthur knew he hadn't participated in the actual event, but he'd caused it, so Arthur hated him most of all. He put every last ounce of his anger into that sneer. The guilt on Kevin's face didn't bring near enough satisfaction.

There were a few more taunts tossed in his direction, and then the boys were gone. Arthur pushed his dripping wet hair off of his forehead and got to his feet, snagging a handful of paper towels in the attempt to dry himself off. After about five minutes he at least managed to stop dripping.

Relieved that he at least didn't have class for another hour, he decided to skip lunch and just go back to his room. He was considering skipping the rest of the day altogether in favor of calling Cobb and screaming at him for putting him in this situation.

As he left the bathroom, he found the hall to be completely empty. He didn't know what he was expecting, but he was pretty sure there was a fantasy in there somewhere about Eames waiting outside with a towel and a hug.

God, he had gotten so pathetic lately.

Arthur started on his walk of shame down the hallway, pulling off his blazer and loosening his tie, and that was when he heard a voice.

"Arthur?"

He turned slowly and met eyes with Mal Miles who had just come out of a classroom and was staring at him in concern.

"Oh, my, what's happened to you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Arthur mumbled after a moment of hesitation.

Her eyebrows knitted together in worry, but Arthur turned his back on her pity. He didn't want to feel like he deserved the pity considering that if he was allowed to be himself he could have broken every single one of their necks. He ran across campus back to his dorm and locked himself inside for the rest of the afternoon.

He was beginning to understand why it was nice to have someone to trust in and rely on.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 9

Arthur left the room before Yusuf returned from classes, but he stuck to the edges of the campus, keeping as far away from students and faculty as possible. He'd changed into some dry clothes hours ago (a t-shirt with some hipster band he'd never heard of and another pair of too-tight jeans), but the memory was still fresh in his mind. He was trying very hard not to care, but it wasn't easy.

For the moment he just focused on the path in front of him, not entirely sure where he was going but needing the fresh air and the lack of human contact. He didn't want to see Yusuf especially because he didn't want to deal with the I told you so's and the complaining about his own issues. Arthur liked Yusuf, but he could be entirely too selfish sometimes.

Arthur was beginning to think he himself could be a bit too selfish as well.

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the yard, and clouds were starting to build, threatening an impending storm later in the evening. He knew he'd have to return to the dorm before then.

He huddled closer to himself, adjusting his glasses. There was tape on the left earpiece since it had snapped off during the swirly, and Arthur had been tempted to toss them (since he didn't need them anyway). He'd sort of gotten used to them by now, however, and it'd be more suspicious for him to suddenly stop wearing them without explanation.

The light was almost gone when Arthur stopped his aimless wandering to find himself not far from the teacher dormitories. Most of the teachers were off at the dining hall grabbing dinner or teaching an evening class, but Arthur noticed that there was a light on in one room on the third floor. He could venture a guess as to who was in that room.

He looked back and forth for any sign of anyone, and then he climbed the stairs to the third floor, went to the door second from the end, and knocked.

There were a few minutes where Arthur could hear shuffling from inside, and then the door was opening to reveal Eames in sweatpants and a tank top, his hair a mess and eyes slightly glazed over. "What? Arthur?"

Arthur could only stare at Eames and the tattoos he'd memorized in his dreams for a few seconds, but then he managed to remember that Eames was waiting for some sort of explanation. All he could manage was, "You weren't in class today."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Eames replied, voice scratchy in his throat. "I'm afraid I've caught the lurgy that's been going around. I thought I could feel it sneaking up on me yesterday, and then it hit me pretty hard this morning. I've been in bed all day."

Arthur reached out and pressed his palm against Eames's forehead and found it to be clammy and warm. "You at least took medicine or something, right?"

"Yes, of course," Eames said, sniffling. "I was just about to make some tea. I'd offer you some, but—"

Arthur shoved by him into the tiny apartment. "Just go sit down. I'll make it. Christ, you sound like hell."

"Arthur, students aren't allowed in the teachers'—"

"I'm already here, so just let me make the tea and then I'll go," Arthur interrupted. He wasn't going to just leave Eames like this.

Eames sighed and shut the door. "You know, contrary to what you may think, I do know how to take care of myself. It's part of being an adult."

Arthur wandered over to the little nook of a kitchen and started boiling water in a kettle. He didn't drink tea too terribly often when he was back at home, but he did know how to make it. Eames's set up made it laughably easy anyway. "They clearly didn't have time to pick out a good substitute, by the way," Arthur said lightly. "The guy didn't know a damned thing about psychology. He just read to us out of the book. We might as well have just not even had class." Arthur turned to smile at Eames but found it fading on his lips as soon as he saw Eames standing there, hip leaning against the table, arms crossed.

"Arthur," Eames said, sighing, "What are you really doing here? Surely you didn't come by just to see me. You're avoiding something or someone so just out with it."

Arthur sheepishly turned away. "I… just had a crappy day, all right? No need for the third degree, you know?"

"What happened?" Eames asked, and Arthur felt his approach rather than saw it. A tentative hand was placed on his shoulder and Arthur had the ridiculous urge to turn around into Eames's arms.

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

"Is this about yesterday?" Eames asked.

"No—well, sort of. It's just a rumor, you know? People are saying things. I don't care about that… Some assholes shoved my head in a toilet though and it kind of sucked so…"

"Oh, Arthur," Eames sighed, turning Arthur around and wrapping an arm around him in a loose hug. "I'm so sorry that happened."

Arthur generally considered himself a stronger man that wouldn't sink into an embrace, but Eames's fever made him warmer, and Arthur's strength was wavering lately considering how defenseless he was forced to remain. He closed his eyes and just leaned against Eames for a minute, all the while mumbling, "It's not a big deal. I don't care. I just didn't feel like going to class after that, you know?"

"Who did it? You should talk to—"

"No one's going to take my word over the trust fund brigade," Arthur snorted, moving away from Eames before he got too comfortable. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. It was just a shitty day. They pick on lots of kids. They'll get bored eventually."

Eames sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Ah… bloody politics. It's not just for the government these days, is it?"

"Was it ever?" Arthur asked, putting a teabag into a mug and pouring the hot water over it. He added a little honey and a little lemon and then handed it to Eames. "This should help your throat."

"I could have accomplished it on my own," Eames said but took it gratefully anyway. "Have a cuppa. Have a seat for a moment."

Arthur figured it probably wasn't wise to stick around. He didn't want Eames to get in trouble. Still, he didn't quite feel like going back yet. He knew that Eames wouldn't complain like Yusuf, and besides, he had missed him when he'd been absent. Eames was the only person on campus that was actually around his age (besides Mal), and Arthur was really missing communicating with people who weren't worried about pimples and exams and what they were going to do with their lives.

He poured himself a cup of tea and followed Eames over to the couch, settling in front of the television that was playing some sort of sitcom. The volume was down low so that Arthur couldn't hear it. He imagined Eames had been sleeping in front of the television.

"So, what's the bloody rumor causing people to shove your head in the john?" Eames asked, pausing in the middle to cough into his elbow.

Arthur sipped at his tea, stalling. "Oh, I don't know… just… this guy kind of came on to me. He uh… he kissed me… but I didn't want him to, so I told him to fuck off, and now he's telling everyone I came on to him… It's just this whole big mess. I don't know what to do about it besides try and ignore it."

Eames reached out and smoothed a hand over the nape of Arthur's neck, a casual gesture he probably would have had the forethought to avoid if he hadn't been feverish. "That is fucking messed up," Eames said. "Bleeding Christ, that's just terrible. No one has a right to touch you like that without your permission. How the fuck are you getting flack for it? Did he hurt you?"

"No," Arthur said. "I'd never let anyone hurt me. I'd have beaten the shit out of him if it wouldn't get me expelled."

Eames took a long gulp of his tea and then exhaled. "I'll try to see if there's something I can do. I'll look into it. Names don't have to be said."

"No, Eames—that'll just make it worse."

Eames slumped back against the couch, and Arthur realized his eyes were closed. "You asshole," Arthur said, finding a bizarre fondness in his voice. "Are you falling asleep on me?"

"No, no, 'course not," Eames mumbled. Arthur had to grab Eames's mug before it spilled all over his lap. "Sorry, love. Took some medicine. Makes me drowsy."

Arthur pouted, setting both mugs of tea down on the coffee table. "Okay, fine, Sleeping Beauty. I get when I'm not wanted."

"Oh, Darling, you're always wanted," Eames slurred and started to snore before he could see Arthur's look of shock. It took a moment for Arthur to recover from that statement, but then he was getting up and tugging Eames's body over so that he was lying down.

He really was warm, the poor guy. Arthur tucked a throw pillow under Eames's head and covered him with a nearby afghan. It took him a few minutes, but he found a washcloth that he soaked with cool water and settled on Eames's forehead, and then he sat back on his haunches to watch his sleeping face.

Did Eames _want_ him? It seemed like a ridiculous idea, something Arthur's fantasies were fueling in order to get his hopes up. Eames couldn't possibly see Arthur as more than a student, some mouthy kid that actually paid attention in class. He was far too professional to even attempt to see a student in an inappropriate way, especially after the way he'd lost his last job, right? Saying that he was wanted didn't mean that _Eames_ was the one who did.

…but the way Eames touched him… That was a bit too friendly for a teacher to do, wasn't it? Teachers didn't just hug their students or run their hands through their hair or rest their palms on the backs of their necks. Teachers didn't talk about their personal lives with their students or continually let them break the rules… or did they? Arthur, admittedly, wasn't that well-versed in teacher-student relations or in relations with anyone. It still made him wonder if, after this entire 'hiding undercover' thing was over and done with, there was a chance Eames would be interested in him.

"This is crazy," Arthur whispered to himself, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. Arthur had never cared about anyone being _interested_ in him. Anything beyond sex was too complicated for him to deal with, but fuck if he wasn't intrigued by the idea. He didn't know why the thought suddenly had such potential, but now wasn't the time to question it.

It was stupid anyway. Arthur didn't have time for a relationship, even a casual one. As soon as all of this mess blew over, he would go back to work, and that would be all he'd need. He'd forget about Eames.

He supposed the only question was, did he want to forget about him?

Arthur reached over and brushed some of Eames's hair back. It was softer than he expected, the color blonder without the pomade plastering it to his head. Eames hadn't shaved at all, causing his stubble to grow coarser. His plush lips were slightly parted as he snoozed, eyes jumping a bit underneath each eyelid. Even though he was ashen, he was still gorgeous. Arthur was tempted just to press a kiss to that perfect mouth right then and there.

He let his fingers ghost over Eames's bottom lip for a second, nearly hypnotized. He knew this stupid little crush was becoming a problem, but he had this moment and wasn't about to waste it. Cautiously, he leaned closer to Eames, hovering just barely over his mouth. Then, he pressed his lips to Eames's in a feather-light kiss.

It lasted for barely a second, but it lit Arthur's body on fire like no kiss ever had.

Arthur got to his feet immediately, staring wide-eyed at Eames as he waited for him to awaken, but when he didn't, Arthur left the apartment, relieved that he was in the clear.

He couldn't believe he'd just done that. As he ran across campus back towards his dorm, skin flush and heart hammering, he felt spectacular. He was pretty sure there was a heavy helping of guilt on the side of all of this wonder and excitement, but he couldn't be bothered with it right now. That little flame that stirred inside of him with that kiss had obliterated all of his misery. Nothing could spoil the way his feet nearly floated off the ground. Even when rain started to fall when he was only halfway back, his mood wasn't dampened.

He took the steps two at a time and threw himself in through the door. By then he was soaking wet but still oddly fluttery and amazed with himself for even attempting such a thing.

"What's got you so giddy?" Yusuf asked, his voice tearing through Arthur's thoughts and sending him crashing back down to reality.

"What? Nothing," Arthur said, pushing his wet hair off of his face much like he had earlier that day.

Yusuf's brow furrowed. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"I uh… I wasn't feeling well, so I cut class," Arthur said as he tugged his t-shirt over his head.

"So you went out in the rain?" Yusuf asked skeptically.

Arthur sighed, digging a towel out from his dresser. "Okay, fine, I skipped class because I got my head shoved in a toilet earlier so I wasn't all that interested in going back to class."

Yusuf's expression turned sympathetic. "Yeah, I heard they were bragging about that. I didn't know they actually did it though. You all right?"

"Fine," Arthur said, and he meant it. "I went and saw Eames. He has the flu or something."

Yusuf sat up from where he was lounging in his desk chair. "You went to the teacher's dormitory just to see the teacher you want to fuck," he said flatly. "You have _got_ to be kidding me. Are you a glutton for punishment or something?"

"Nothing happened," Arthur scoffed.

"You've got a sickness," Yusuf sighed, shaking his head. "You have a bad day and your first thought is to go and find Eames in the hopes that he can coddle you and make you feel better?"

"I didn't actively seek him out," Arthur complained, "and there was no coddling. I just went out for some air and saw the light was on in one of the rooms, and since he wasn't in class I just figured I'd see what was going on. I don't have a _sickness_. Don't you think I've had a bad enough day without you accusing me of running off to fuck my teacher?"

"I didn't accuse you of that."

"You implied it," Arthur barked back, pulling on a dry pair of jeans. "Fuck, I get into the room and you're immediately up in my business. This is why I went out before you got back."

"Arthur," Yusuf sighed. "Come on… I'm not trying to turn this into a fight. I wasn't trying to imply anything. I'm just worried about you. You're going to hurt yourself if you keep pursuing this crush."

"I'm not _pursuing_ anything!" Arthur cried. "Did you ever think that maybe I just needed an adult to talk to about the shit I'm suddenly enduring because of that asshole Kevin? Whether I like Eames or not, he's the one adult here I know I can _trust_."

Arthur was momentarily rattled by his own words as he realized he'd basically claimed that, out of anyone in this place, he trusted Eames. Arthur had never thought himself capable of trust, had apparently made that clear when Eames had suggested that he would with time find someone to put his faith in. Arthur didn't even know if he legitimately trusted Eames or if he was just clinging to him as the only lifeline to his adult world. Maybe he was just falling off into the deep end of insanity. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse as to why he'd wound up at Eames's door instead of hiding away in bed for the day.

He didn't know, but the words were out there now, and he couldn't take them back. He sort of found that he didn't want to, and maybe that was an answer all on its own.

"Okay," Yusuf relented, holding his hands up in a placating fashion. "All right, you've made your point. Trust me, I understand how much it sucks to be pushed around, and I'm really sorry that you've got a proverbial target painted on you for something you didn't do. I forgot that you weren't exactly close with your foster parents. I wasn't thinking."

Arthur shuffled his feet a little, feeling guilty for snapping at Yusuf. He really hadn't been trying to do anything cruel. "It's okay," Arthur sighed. "It's just been a rough day. I know you had your reasons for… It's just fine. Whatever."

An awkward silence passed between them.

Arthur cringed, unable to take the quiet and admitted, "And I sort of kissed him while he was sleeping."

Damn it, he was supposed to be better under pressure than this. This whole day was spiraling further and further into disaster territory. Arthur would have to retrain himself before going back on the field if this was a sign of how far his skills were slipping. He'd gotten so used to being around people that he was actually inclined to _share_ all of this meaningless information, and now that he realized it he wanted to dig a hole in the woods and hide in it until all of this was done. He really wasn't sure why Cobb thought this was a better option than that.

" _What_?" Yusuf cried out in shock. "Fucking hell, Arthur!"

"It was only for a second," Arthur managed weakly.

"Who gives a damn?" Yusuf replied, horrified. "You kissed your teacher! He's way older than you!"

He wasn't, but that was hardly relevant. "He was asleep," Arthur clarified, in case Yusuf missed it.

"So you kissed him without even getting permission—which if you _had_ gotten permission probably would have led to all sorts of other terrible repercussions. You kissed him without him wanting you to, so how does that make you any different than Kevin?"

There was that heavy helping of guilt.

"Christ," Yusuf hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "If he knew you did that, I seriously doubt he'd trust you. What the hell is the matter with you, Arthur? You can't just do whatever the hell you want and not suspect there will be consequences. That's a bloody good way to get killed. You're setting yourself up for expulsion and setting Eames up to get fired or, even worse, to go to prison!"

"Well, it happened!" Arthur shouted back, not sure what else to say. "What the fuck do you expect me to do now? I fucked up. How do you expect me to fix it?"

"You have to tell him," Yusuf said. "You have to apologize. Fuck—you have to atone for your misdeed, don't you see? I may not be a religious man, but I know that bad things will come back to haunt you."

"If I tell him he won't like me anymore—"

"Well then you shouldn't have bloody done it. You're damn right he's not going to like you anymore. Every fiber in you wants to punch Kevin in the face, but you're no better than he is."

"I didn't go spreading around that Eames kissed me and let my friends bully and humiliate him."

"This is a school full of teenagers. Pecking order exists. Bullying and humiliation are awful, but whether he kissed you or you kissed him or any of it happened or not, this whole them versus us mentality is still going to happen. It's a footnote in the injustice you suffered. It doesn't make him worse than you, Arthur."

Arthur wanted to knock Yusuf's lights out, but he knew that he didn't have the right. Yusuf was correct, and Arthur was well on his way to feeling like the worst person to ever exist. He sat down on the bed, expression glum over the idea of losing Eames and it being his own fault. He looked down into his lap and mumbled, "I just thought… maybe if I kissed him and didn't feel anything then I'd be able to forget about this stupid crush…"

The anger seemed to drain out of Yusuf, but Arthur wasn't going to risk it. He didn't look at him when Yusuf sat down next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "So, what happened?" Yusuf asked. "How did you feel?"

"I don't know… it certainly wasn't nothing. I've never felt like this before. Maybe I do have a sickness."

"This is a bit of a mess," Yusuf said, "but… Well, you're not as awful as Kevin. That's not true. You didn't mean anything by it. It's not like you were trying to take advantage of him. You just… you did a stupid thing."

Arthur stared at the wall, knowing Yusuf was just trying to help. He also knew that Yusuf was wrong about him not being quite as terrible as Kevin. He had made his bed and now he had to lie in it. "All my life I didn't give a shit about anyone else. If I looked out for myself, that was all that mattered. No one could get close to me and complicate things, and nobody could hurt me. Now I… I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what I'm doing. I feel like this school has thrown me down into some wormhole or something. Something's happening to me, lots of things are actually. I don't know what to do."

Yusuf shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, Arthur. Maybe you're just changing. People do that, you know? I suppose you're just going to have to decide if you're changing into somebody that you like and adjust accordingly."

Arthur didn't say anything to that. He wasn't sure what he could say.

"You want to go get something to eat from the dining hall?" Yusuf asked.

"I might end up with my head dunked in the macaroni and cheese."

"I might not be much of a bodyguard, but I'll do my best to protect you. You need to eat. Your brain is all screwy because you haven't eaten."

"Leave it to you to solve all problems with food," Arthur snorted. Yusuf shoved him playfully and Arthur was relieved to find that at least this relationship was on the mend.

He and Eames however… that was going to be a bit more complicated.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 10

Sunday, all of the boys were allowed to pile into busses and head into town for the afternoon. Arthur wasn't terribly interested in being crowded in a small space with an entire group of kids that absolutely hated him, but he sat next to Robert so they pretty much left him alone.

Yusuf, who was sitting behind them leaned over their seat and whispered to Robert, "You're like an anti-bullying magnet. We should have become friends a long, long time ago."

"They're not afraid of me. They're afraid of my dad," Robert explained.

The three of them cast a cautious glance at Maurice Fischer who had settled into one of the front seats with Peter Browning, both of them talking in hushed voices. "Speaking of your dad," Yusuf said, "since when did he come with the group on these trips? He retired a few years ago, right?"

"I don't know," Robert said vaguely. "He's been hanging around a lot more lately. I'm not sure what it is he wants."

There was something in Robert's expression that inclined Arthur to not completely believe he didn't know, but he didn't say anything about it for now

"Maybe he just hates Arthur that much," Yusuf joked, poking Arthur in the back of the head. "I mean, it's no mystery that he has a rather impressive distaste for you. Maybe he thinks you're going to turn his son into a homosexual."

"According to the rumors that have been spread about me my entire school career, I already am," Robert said flatly.

"Actually, they're saying you're a cross-dresser these days," Arthur supplied.

"You'd make a lovely cross-dresser," Yusuf chuckled.

"You two can both just go straight to hell," Robert grumbled. "Either way, my dad isn't worried about you turning me gay. He'd have to give more of a shit about me to be concerned about that."

"Even your sarcasm is depressing," Yusuf said.

"What exactly do you suppose his problem is with me then?" Arthur asked, adjusting his glasses. "He's always giving me the stink eye."

"That's just Dad," Robert said. It was another statement that seemed to be hanging on the edge of something else, but again Arthur didn't comment.

"Whatever," Yusuf said lightly. "The girls are going to be in town, so you two are going to be my wingmen. There's got to be a girl willing to settle for me, right?"

Arthur wasn't paying attention by then. He was looking towards Eames who was sitting with Mal behind Browning and Fischer. Arthur hadn't been able to stop thinking about that kiss since it had happened, and he hadn't been able to find the nerve to apologize. Eames didn't even know anything had happened, after all, but Arthur hadn't wanted to ruin their relationship. He feared his visit had already put a damper on it since Eames had been more distant since he returned to class. He was friendly as always, but something had changed. There were no more casual touches, and he had stopped referring to him as 'Darling'. Arthur didn't know what to think.

When the bus pulled up into town, Browning shouted orders to be back by six o'clock and that if they were to get into any mischief their next visit would be revoked. None of the boys seemed to care as they all pushed and shoved their way out onto the town square.

Arthur discovered that the 'town' was barely anything to look at, finding that it was small and somewhat old-fashioned in places. The most modern thing he could really see was the shopping mall off to the side, and that seemed to be where all of the kids were flocking to. Arthur hung back for a few minutes, tempted to avoid them and hide out somewhere else for the day so they couldn't figure out new and interesting ways to torture him. He'd already had his head crammed in a toilet twice, been locked in a classroom, and had his entire plate of food knocked onto his front three times. Someone had left a sign on his and Yusuf's dorm room door proclaiming that it was a room for faggots and followed with a crude and very lewd drawing of the two of them together. Yusuf's bullying had been almost as brutal.

Arthur's phone buzzed in his pocket before he could decide whether to risk the shopping mall or just say fuck it and go somewhere else. When he pulled it out of his pocket, he discovered it was Cobb, and suddenly he was flooding over with hope. He slipped away from the crowd and into a coffee shop and from there into the bathroom where he locked himself in. "Oh, God, Cobb, is it over? Can I come back?"

"Sorry, but no," Cobb said, and he did sound genuinely apologetic. Arthur found it hard to care since he'd been barely repressing the urge to strangle someone as it was. "I'm calling because one of your teachers contacted _me_. A Mal Miles?"

Arthur groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. "Fuck, what did she tell you?"

"She informed me that it seemed like you'd been subjected to some bullying recently. She was concerned about your wellbeing, apparently, but since this Browning guy and this Fischer guy didn't have any evidence they weren't doing anything about it. Are you all right?"

"Cobb, I've been shot at on several occasions and held hostage in one. I'm trained in the highest forms of martial arts and weaponry. I think I can handle a couple of kids calling me a faggot."

"Yes, I know that, but you haven't been using of these trained techniques on any of them, have you?"

"As hard as it is not to I can safely say that I haven't," Arthur said flatly. "Get me _out of here_ , Cobb. I'm sick of this bullshit."

"I know, and I'm really sorry. I didn't think I'd have to keep you there as long as I did, but these guys mean serious business. I've had two agents killed, Arthur. We've had to move underground. They know where we are, and I'm not entirely sure how."

"Oh, God," Arthur said softly. "Cobb, you… you have to bring me back. I can help. No one's ever been able to touch me, even when I was held captive I managed to hold them off before they could so much as scratch me. You've got to put me back in the field. I can find out who's doing this."

"I'm not going to lose my best operative to these people. We're safe for now. All active agents are in undisclosed locations. Even _I_ don't know where they are right now, but they've been communicating with me to let me know that they're safe. This is big, Arthur, bigger than I ever thought it would be. I don't know how they keep finding us. There may be an inside guy, so if you come across any agents or hear from them, do _not_ trust them."

Arthur swallowed around the knot in his throat. "You know I never trust anyone, Cobb."

"I know. Just be cautious. If they're able to find us, I'm not entirely sure whether or not they can find you."

Arthur was silent for a moment. Then, he asked, "Did you look into Maurice Fischer?"

"I didn't find anything pertinent, but his records are sealed up tight. The most I can tell you is that he's made some business deals where the numbers don't quite add up."

That apparently didn't mean much to Cobb, but it caused Arthur's stomach to drop a little. He wasn't sure why. "Okay," he said. "Thanks, I guess. Be careful out there, Cobb, and seriously don't keep me in the dark. Don't make me tell you again."

"Yeah, all right. Oh, and Arthur?"

"What is it?"

"Is this teacher of yours, this Mal Miles, single?"

"God damn it, Cobb!"

"It's just that we talked for a really long time, and—"

"I'm hanging up now," Arthur said and did just that. He breathed in and let it out slowly before pocketing his phone and exiting the bathroom. He caught a glance at Eames through the coffee shop window, chatting with a few teachers that Arthur had never seen before (he figured they must have been from the girls' school), laughing at something that was said. Arthur couldn't stop staring at his mouth if he kept looking, so he hurried out of the shop and as far away as possible. His apology could wait until he could be sure he was leaving this godforsaken school behind forever and wouldn't have to see Eames the next day.

It didn't take long for him to catch up with Yusuf, though it appeared Robert had gone off on his own by then. "There you are," Yusuf said and grabbed Arthur by the wrist, dragging him off towards the mall and into the food court. "Check it out."

The girls' academy had definitely brought their students along. There were tables upon tables of young, fresh, female faces chatting enthusiastically about this or that, and there were plenty of Arthur's peers trying to get their attention as well. "Is this supposed to interest me in any way?" Arthur asked Yusuf, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Yes, well, we can't all sneak kisses from our teachers, now can we?" Yusuf asked as he scanned the crowd. When Arthur glared at him, Yusuf snorted. "Well, you did. I'm not about to let you forget about it. Lighten up."

"Can we just get away from here? I don't want to be their target of humiliation in order to impress some of these girls," Arthur sighed. "Come on, Yusuf, this is ridiculous."

"The dance is next weekend, Arthur, and I'm not going without a date."

"Well, everyone already thinks we're fucking so you could always take me," Arthur said sarcastically. "Come on, you don't want to go out with any of those girls."

"Um, yes, yes I do," Yusuf said. "Look at them. They're beautiful!"

"Who cares? They're dumb enough to fall for these displays of machismo. These aren't the kind of girls you want to bother spending your time with. You shouldn't have to peacock to get someone's attention."

"You just wait until they fall asleep, right?" Yusuf asked. Arthur smacked him. "Okay, all right, I'll lay off."

"Considering how much pent up anger I have right now, you're lucky I didn't wail on you," Arthur sighed. "Come on, let's wander around. I don't want to stand here and watch you drool. You wanted me to be your wingman, so I'm going to do my job." Yusuf whined but followed. Arthur didn't really care about finding Yusuf a date, but he figured he might as well. Maybe it would get him to shut up about this whole 'kissing Eames' thing. Arthur had felt bad about it at first, but now it was just starting to get annoying.

They walked for a bit, Arthur growing progressively more bored of the entire mall experience (seriously, what did teens see in these things?). At one point Arthur decided to slip into a bookstore and order a coffee from the stand inside, and while he was doing that he spotted a tiny teenage girl curled up in an armchair with a book in the architecture section.

"Hey, Yusuf," Arthur said, pointing. "What about her?"

Yusuf cocked an eyebrow and glanced in the direction Arthur was pointing. "What, the girl reading?"

"Yeah," Arthur said. "She's pretty, don't you think?"

"I can't see her face through that curtain of hair."

Arthur rolled his eyes and thanked the barista for his coffee before walking over towards her. He took a minute or two to peruse the shelf before turning to her. "What book do you have? I have this assignment to do for my art class where we have to draw a building, and I'm not really sure what to look for."

The girl lifted her head to reveal a pair of soft, plush pink lips and large, doe eyes. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and showed Arthur the cover. "Honestly, this one's not very good. It's all words. I'm all for learning about the process, but you've got to give me some inspiration to go on, you know?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, looking back to the shelf. "Never mind then."

"Oh, I'm sure I can find you something," the girl piped up. "I have a lot of these books at home. I know the good ones."

"Oh. Great," Arthur said, smiling. He tossed a look over his shoulder at Yusuf and made a face as if to tell him to get his ass over there. Yusuf seemed to still be debating it.

Within a few minutes the girl had given Arthur a whole stack of books on architecture as well as some art books. "You probably won't need all of them, but you can look through them and see which one you like the most. Teachers like it if you draw something original, but you've got to draw your inspiration from someplace, right?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, setting the pile down on the floor. "I don't think I caught your name, by the way."

"Oh," she said, turning back to him and holding out her hand. "I'm Ariadne, like the Greek goddess, because my parents are crazy hippies."

"Arthur," Arthur replied, shaking her hand, "like the King from the medieval times because I was destined for geekiness, I guess."

She smiled. "Nice to meet you. Now, please tell me you didn't feign an interest in architecture just to ask me to that dance."

"I am not here to ask you to the dance," Arthur assured her. "I don't even want to go to that stupid thing."

"Reverse psychology?"

"Not even a little. I seriously do not want to go and will not be attending. My friend Yusuf on the other hand is convinced that if he has me as his wingman he can pick up a date."

"Ah, so you're trying to get _him_ the hook up. I see," Ariadne chuckled. "Well, if he doesn't have the guts to talk to me himself, then I'm not interested."

Arthur looked back at Yusuf, trying to mentally communicate _so, yes or no_? Yusuf approached cautiously.

"Ariadne, this is my coward friend Yusuf," Arthur introduced immediately and started putting the books she'd pulled off for him back on the shelf. "He might be worthy of a pity date."

"You're a terrible friend, Arthur," Yusuf said flatly.

"I think he's pretty good," Ariadne said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her red jacket. "So, Yusuf, I hear you're looking for a date to the dance."

"Yes, well…" Yusuf said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. "Last time I couldn't get a date, and I sort of—"

"You sort of didn't want to feel like a loser?" Ariadne finished for him.

"Yeah…" Yusuf said, visibly drooping.

"Well, I don't think you're a loser if that helps. I mean, you definitely have loser potential if you keep up with that defeatist attitude, but right now you're still pretty okay. You've got this Arthur guy who's willing to go to bat for you, after all, and you're not parading around here like a dick, so I'd say that's a win," Ariadne informed him, a corner of her mouth quirking up.

Yusuf blinked. "I think I might quite like you."

"So ask me to the dance," Ariadne said firmly. "I kind of need to know if I need to go buy an outfit, you know?"

"Will you—"

"Sure. I don't have anything else to do that night anyway," Ariadne shrugged, grabbing his hand and whipping a pen out of the pocket of her jacket, scrawling a phone number on his palm. "You can call me or text me if you want. I'm going to wear red so dress accordingly, all right?" She winked and lightly smacked Arthur's cheek as she passed. "Good job, Arthur. I'll catch you two later."

"You're a good friend," Yusuf said to Arthur.

"You'll have way more fun with her than you would with any of those other girls you were watching. Trust me on that," Arthur replied. "Now can we get out of here?"

* * *

Arthur and Yusuf ended up seeing a movie at the movie theater before Yusuf scurried off to buy a suit to wear to the dance. Arthur certainly wasn't going to stick around for that so he told Yusuf he'd meet him back at the bus.

He tossed his leftover popcorn into a trashcan once he'd gotten outside and never slowed his pace across the parking lot so that no one would have the chance to catch up to him and try and grind his face into the pavement (outside of school grounds and away from watchful eyes, Arthur wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to stand by and let that happen). He was mostly concerned with getting back to the bus, so he almost missed it when he heard a familiar voice coming from an alleyway.

Arthur almost walked right into it to see what was going on but thought better of it, ducking behind the wall to listen in.

It was Robert and his dad, and they appeared to be arguing.

"I'm not going to do it," Robert said. "I don't care what you promised me—I'm… I can't, and I won't. I won't sell my soul like that."

"Think about what you're saying here, Robert," Maurice said.

"The fact of the matter is that you're not one-hundred percent sure," Robert said, "and even if you were, I don't care. I'd rather toss out my inheritance and work my way up onto the stage on my own if it's going to cost me this much to get your approval. In fact, I'd much prefer that than to have your name in front of mine if these are the kinds of deals you commit with your business. It's despicable."

Arthur raised his eyebrows and edged closer so that he could listen more intently. What kind of deals was Robert referring to? What was Maurice trying to get Robert to do?

"You'll do as I tell you," Maurice growled. "I'm your father."

"You're only my father when there's something I can _do_ for you!" Robert shouted back. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions and decide what kind of man I'm going to be, and it's certainly not going to be one like you. I don't care about your disappointment anymore. I'm tired of standing in your shadow and feeling bad about what I want! He's my friend!"

"He's a _liar_!" Maurice yelled, and it made a shiver run down Arthur's spine.

Were they talking about _him_?

"All my life, I just wanted you to be proud of me for something," Robert said, voice wobbly, "but I realize now that I don't need your approval… I'm not going to keep letting myself down just so that you can be satisfied. He's my friend, and I don't care if he's a liar. At least he cares about me as a person. He believes in my talent. He's seen it. He told me that I should go for it, and I told him that the only thing stopping me was you. Well, I don't care how hard it'll be. I'm going after my own dreams and my own interest, and you aren't going to tell me no—"

Robert's voice was abruptly cut off by a sudden and loud smack to the face. It took a lot more strength than Arthur expected not to run to his aid.

"Insolent child. You're just like your mother," Maurice seethed.

"Yeah, I am, except I'm still alive, and they'd probably turn their eyes on you if I died under mysterious circumstances too," Robert snapped back.

Arthur's eyes widened at the veiled accusation. He was tempted to wait there until Maurice left and demand answers out of Robert, but at that moment Peter Browning started making his way down the street and Arthur had to dash away before he could see him and report the eavesdropper to Maurice.

Maurice, who was apparently capable of murder if Robert was correct…

It was no wonder why Robert had always been so afraid of the man. Maybe he had that kind of power backing him up. Maybe—

Arthur was grabbed and for a moment he flailed in panic. For that split second he thought that maybe they'd seen him, given chase, that they'd caught him, but then a voice spoke out and Arthur instantly relaxed.

"Another fire?" Eames asked. "What's the rush?"

Arthur stared back at Eames, panting and wide-eyed. "Wh… what?"

"You were booking it down the sidewalk," Eames said. "What are you bloody running from?"

"Oh. Um. Nothing. I was um… exercising."

"Exercising," Eames said skeptically.

Arthur nodded, a sheepish grin on his face.

Eames rolled his eyes and let go of Arthur. "Okay, whatever, I guess it's another one of those big teenager secret things. At least tell me you're not doing something illegal."

"I was just um…" Arthur hesitated and then said, "I was going to buy a pack of cigarettes."

Eames snorted. "Ah, so it is illegal. I thought you promised you wouldn't smoke anymore."

"Well, I didn't know if that promise still stood, considering you've distanced yourself so much from me over the past few days. I didn't think you cared about it anymore."

It was Eames's turn to look uncomfortable. "Oh, um. Well, ah… listen, Arthur, it's… it's complicated."

"Why?" Arthur asked. "Everyone knows I'm gay now so you're afraid they'll think you're sleeping with me this time?"

Eames leveled Arthur with his gaze. "No, Arthur, that's not why. You would have to confess to sleeping with me before I would be concerned about my job again. Confess to that or anything really."

It was as though he was challenging him, and Arthur felt a wave of understanding wash over him as he realized that Eames _knew_. He knew about the _kiss_.

"Who… who told you?" Arthur asked softly.

"Nobody did," Eames sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I wasn't that deeply asleep, you know. I felt it. At first I thought I dreamed it, but then you slammed the door on your sprint out of my flat and woke me up."

With Arthur's expression of absolute horror, Eames's expression softened a little. "Now, Arthur," Eames said, "don't look so distraught, okay? I'm not angry with you. You're young and curious, and you probably felt safe with me, and… well, my behavior with you hasn't exactly been appropriate. It's only natural that you would misinterpret the meaning. That being said, I can't allow it to continue. You're a student, Arthur, and you're too young."

Arthur's head tilted slightly, and he couldn't help but ask. "Well… what if I wasn't a student? What if I was older? What then?"

"Arthur, I'm not going to play what if games with you."

"Just tell me," Arthur said sternly. "If I was around your age and your job wasn't on the line, would you be interested in me? Tell me the truth."

Eames's lips parted but no words came out.

His silence was enough for Arthur, whose heart was thudding in his chest so rapidly that he suspected it might burst through his rib cage.

Before anything could be argued, Peter Browning's voice called out that they would be boarding the buses in about twenty minutes.

"I've got to go make a phone call," Arthur said softly and excused himself from Eames.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 11

Cobb found the records of Mrs. Fischer's death to be ruled a suicide. According to the paperwork, the police had found it to be an open and shut case, but Arthur wasn't sure if he bought that story even if Maurice did seem like a terror to live with. He figured he'd have to do a little investigating of his own if he had time and had full intention of grilling Robert about it later.

The only problem was that Robert wasn't on the bus when they left. Yusuf's explanation was that he had probably gotten on one of the other buses, but it didn't sit right with Arthur. In fact, he sat there thinking about it for the entire ride back to the school's campus, nodding on occasion to convince Yusuf that he was actually listening to what he was saying. Yusuf was too preoccupied with texting Ariadne to notice Arthur was faking paying attention.

His concern only grew when, the next morning he discovered Robert wasn't in class. Arthur checked the music room, even skipped out on lunch to see if he was sick in his dorm room. Robert wasn't there and neither were his things.

Robert Fischer was gone.

Arthur was unable to sleep that night when that fact became apparent. He couldn't get the idea that he'd been spirited away under 'mysterious circumstances', that he was lying dead in a ditch somewhere. He'd been the last one to see him other than Maurice Fischer (at least as far as Arthur knew), and that meant he could have saved him.

If he had been the Arthur he used to be, that wouldn't have mattered, but that had all changed now. Arthur cared about Robert, considered him a friend, considered him someone he could trust, and no one knew where he was. He and Yusuf stayed up most of that Monday night talking about it. Arthur hadn't told Yusuf of the things that had been said other than Robert refusing to bow to his father's whims.

"What do you think happened?" Yusuf asked him that night. "Rob was so determined to just do his dad's bidding before. What do you suppose changed?"

"I guess he really thought about what he wanted and decided it was worth it to try. Maybe… maybe his Dad was trying to convince him to do something so despicable that he realized that maybe he was better off struggling to make his own life."

"Did they say something about that?" Yusuf asked.

Arthur hesitated and then looked up at the ceiling. "No. No, they didn't."

Yusuf hummed, rolling onto his stomach and clutching his pillow. "Well, I wonder what would be so bad?"

Arthur could think of a few things, but he didn't vocalize them. Instead he let them fester in his mind, worries and confusion whirling around and making it hard to sleep. It consumed him so thoroughly that he almost forgot about the Eames situation.

Almost.

Every time Eames's presence would make itself known, whether it be in the dining hall, in class, or anywhere on campus within sight of Arthur, the memory of the afternoon before would come slinking back. Arthur had known what Eames's answer had been, even if he hadn't answered it, and while he was relieved that he now knew he wasn't crazy and wasn't seeing things, it didn't help the whole slew of other issues that came cropping up with the truth.

If Eames knew the truth about Arthur, would he want him? How long had he been interested? If they were to be together could Arthur even handle an actual relationship? What about their jobs? What about the price on Arthur's head? Would Eames even like Arthur anymore if he told him the truth? How was Arthur sure that Eames's attraction to Arthur wasn't strictly physical like so many of Arthur's previous trysts had been?

The endless questions made his head hurt. He tried to block them out by spending all of his free time holed up in the library, hacking into databases and trying to read up on Maurice Fischer and trying to find out Robert's whereabouts. Apparently they had a home in Australia that they primarily lived at, but there were a number of real estate properties in Fischer's name. Arthur wished he'd had the resources and tools available to him to tap the phone lines at each home, but all he could do for the moment was observe their security camera feeds. Those were only on the outside of the houses, so they weren't very helpful. Arthur spent several late nights on his laptop after Yusuf went to sleep just trying to see inside.

Cobb would probably claim he was going crazy with boredom and looking for things to be suspicious about—and when all of this had first started he likely would have felt the same way, but Arthur had that _feeling_ , that hunch that something was wrong, and he was pretty sure he had something to do with it.

He couldn't just accept the fact that Robert had been taken out of Fischer-Morrow and that was that. No one seemed to care or worry that he was gone at all, but Arthur couldn't stand by and be one of those people.

By Thursday night he'd exhausted the few resources he had eleven times over, but he was still hunched over a computer in the library. When his searches again turned up nothing, he shut down his surveillance and closed off the many firewalls he put up to keep his snooping undetected. Just before he started to get up from his computer cubicle, the sounds of the doors opening sent him down. He slipped under the desk as voices lilted through the room, staying as silent as possible.

It was possible it was just some students hurrying to fetch study material before the library closed, but he wasn't going to risk the chance of being seen by Maurice Fischer, especially since he was alone.

Arthur figured it said something about the man if Arthur's paranoia was cranked up this high.

The sound of voices faded and the library door shut and the room was silent. Arthur was about to slip out of his hiding place when a pair of legs entered his field of vision. Arthur had to swallow his heart from where it had jumped into his throat.

"Blasted kids don't know how to turn off these bloody computers," the voice belonging to the pair of legs mumbled, and Arthur realized with great relief that it was Eames.

…Eames, with whom he still hadn't directly spoken to since that day in town.

Arthur just couldn't win.

Eames shut down the computer Arthur had been using, and that was almost that, but in his haste to duck and cover, Arthur had left his bag plopped down next to his chair, and Eames noticed it when he nearly tripped on the strap. He looked at the bag, and then his eyes drifted slightly until they met Arthur's gaze. "Arthur?" Eames questioned.

"Hi," Arthur replied, not sure what else to say.

Eames pulled the chair out of the way and helped Arthur out from under the desk. "What the hell were you doing down there?" Eames asked.

"Um…"

Eames watched him for a moment before he came to a realization of his own. "Oh," Eames said. "Oh, it's… Sorry. You were hiding from me, weren't you?"

"No, I—I would never," Arthur tried to say, but Eames was shaking his head.

"No, no, that's fair. I understand," Eames said. "I've fucked with you enough as it is. It's probably better if we keep our distance from each other."

"I don't want— _Eames_ ," Arthur complained. "I wasn't hiding from you, jeez. If you must know, I ducked down when I heard someone come in because I thought…"

 _Maurice Fischer was coming to murder me_ didn't really sound like a good, sane thing to say.

"I thought it might be some guys coming to beat me up."

"Oh."

For several miserable seconds both of them were silent.

Then, Eames said, "About… what you asked me on Sunday…"

"No, no, let's just—can we not go down that road now?" Arthur begged. "I already know what you were going to say, and I know that it can't happen between us, so I'd really prefer to not be rejected out loud right now, okay? I am having a tough enough time as it is with this whole Robert thing and with the Kevin thing and everything and—"

"Robert thing?" Eames queried. "He didn't make a move on you too, did he?"

"No," Arthur sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Haven't you noticed? He's gone. There's not a trace of him. Even his dorm room is packed up. Everyone keeps saying that he left, but I know he wouldn't have gone anywhere without saying goodbye unless he had no choice… and I feel like it might be my fault."

Eames leaned against the side of the cubicle, expression one of genuine concern. "How would him leaving be your fault?"

Arthur stared back at Eames, guarded and lost. "I think he might have been protecting me from something, but I don't know what. He never directly said it was me, but… I just… I feel like it has to be me."

"Well, Robert Fischer doesn't hang out with anybody else," Eames said, "or so I've heard."

"I don't know what to do, Eames," Arthur sighed. "I know Rob doesn't get along with his dad, and I know that his dad has a ridiculous amount of worldly power, and I _know_ that that kind of power corrupts people. I don't know what he's capable of, and that's what scares me."

Eames's expression was grave by then. "This sounds serious."

"It could be," Arthur said, "but it also could be nothing. I just want to… I want to find Robert. Then I can know for sure. His cell phone has been cut off though, and I have literally no other way of contacting him. Even if I did, there's no guarantee I wouldn't get intercepted by his dad beforehand. I've been trying to figure out what's going on all week, but every path I've taken has literally led me nowhere."

"Have you told anyone about this?" Eames asked.

"Who am I going to tell? No one would believe me, and even if they did Fischer runs this place. If he caught wind of anything suspicious, he'd shut it down immediately."

"So why tell me?"

Arthur's lips parted, but for a moment he couldn't speak. "I… Eames…" he looked down at his feet. "It's because I trust you. That's why I can tell you. I just… I know in my heart that you wouldn't sell me out."

"How… how could you know that? How could you—I've never given you a reason to believe that, have I?" Eames asked, and he just sounded utterly confused and almost _longing_. "I thought you didn't trust anyone."

"I trust you. I just do," Arthur said.

Eames reached out his hand, hesitated, and then cupped Arthur's cheek, thumb brushing against his cheekbone. "Why me?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, staring back at him certainly. "Trust me, I _wish_ I could explain it. It would make things a hell of a lot easier."

Eames let his hand drop and quickly shoved it into his pocket. He exhaled slowly, expression mildly strained. "You are going to be the death of me, Darling. Christ… what am I doing? No—you know what it is. I'm bloody leading you on again. What the fucking hell is the matter with me?"

Arthur watched Eames for a moment before saying, "If you really like me, then why don't you just accept it?"

Eames rolled his eyes. "Come, now, Arthur, you're not an idiot, not at all. You're a teenager, and I'm your _teacher_. Yes, it's true you look a bit older than the other kids, but that doesn't change facts now does it? Even if you were eighteen and, by this country's standards, legal it would still be an abuse of my power as an authority figure to you to even _think_ about—"

Arthur tugged Eames over by the collar of his shirt and pushed his lips against Eames's for one glorious, lingering second. "Just stop," Arthur said miserably when they broke away from each other. "I told you that I couldn't take a rejection out loud right now. Yeah, I get why it can't happen, all right? I do. I know you're already walking on eggshells when it comes to this whole student-teacher relationship thing because of what happened at your last job. I know that if you get fired from this job for the same thing as the last one that you'll never find work again. I get it, okay? You don't have to tell me."

"Arthur, I—I'm sorry," Eames offered weakly.

Arthur seriously considered telling Eames the truth in that moment. He almost told him that he was in his twenties and was only here because of a job gone bad, but…

He couldn't.

He knew he couldn't because Arthur had a hunch that things were about to get dangerous, and he realized with astonishing clarity that he didn't want Eames in the crossfire.

"No," Arthur told Eames. "I'm sorry. It sucks, but… yeah. I understand. I won't bother you anymore, Mr. Eames."

"Arthur…"

Arthur shook his head. "No, really, you're right, and besides, what do I know about relationships? I've never been in one. I've never been able to get close to anybody, so I don't see why it makes any difference. It's better this way. You'll have your job, and I'll have…"

 _I'll have my job_.

…but suddenly it didn't feel like quite enough anymore. All Arthur had ever needed was his work, but now he wasn't sure what to do.

All he could really hope for was to get over it.

When all of this was over, he'd never see Eames again, and one day he'd look back on this and laugh at how stupid he was being.

After all, it wasn't like he _loved_ Eames.

No one had ever gotten close enough to scar Arthur that way or any other, so certainly Eames couldn't have either.

* * *

After leaving Eames frozen in the library, Arthur went back to his dorm room and collapsed into bed. He didn't answer Yusuf when he asked what was wrong, and Yusuf probably made his assumptions that Arthur was still stressed about Robert's disappearance.

Arthur slept through the first few of his classes on Friday morning and skipped the rest, sending Yusuf off with a story for anyone who asked that he didn't feel well. It was a miracle he could even get a word into Yusuf's skull to start with since he was entirely preoccupied with planning for the dance that night. Arthur couldn't tell how many times Yusuf had told him he planned on meeting Ariadne at the door and that he had ordered a bouquet of roses and that his bowtie was red so it would match her dress, but he'd heard it more than enough.

When Yusuf was dressing for it that evening, he glanced over his shoulder at Arthur. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" he asked as he adjusted his tie. "It might be fun. You never know."

"Yeah, I think I'm just going to kick back in here," Arthur said. "The last thing I want to do is lean against a wall and watch a bunch of teenagers slow dance and feel up other teenagers."

"You say that like you're not one of us," Yusuf snorted and tousled Arthur's hair as he passed. "Well, at least go for a walk or something? You haven't left your bed all day. The air will help clear your head, you know?"

"Maybe I'll just open a window," Arthur said, tugging a pillow over his face. "There's less chance of getting the snot beaten out of me that way."

Yusuf shook his head. "See you later, mate."

Arthur pulled the pillow off of his face and said, "Hey, Yusuf?"

Yusuf paused in the doorway and looked back. "Hm?"

"You're a good friend," Arthur said. "I never had a lot of friends, so I'm glad that one of them is you."

A semi-touched, semi-vexed smile appeared on Yusuf's face. "Uh, thanks, mate, but don't talk to me like you're about to die, yeah?"

Arthur raised his hand in a wave goodbye and then Yusuf was gone. Arthur sighed and stared up at the ceiling, and he thought of Eames.

He found it odd to think about Eames not being around once he left. In the short time Arthur had been at the school, Eames had become a sort of staple in his life. He was important to Arthur just like Yusuf and just like Robert…

It was all a big stupid mistake. Having things that were important to him meant that he had vulnerable spots. Surely once he got out of the school and back into the field he'd return to normal. Their faces would fade into the background of his memory and he'd go cold again and, as always, no one would be able to touch him. All of this downtime had softened him too much, and he only hoped to build up his wall again quickly so he could get back to work as soon as possible. It was all he had. It was all he'd ever had. It didn't matter if it didn't feel like enough right now.

Arthur rolled over onto his stomach and sighed into his pillow. He was too tired of worrying about things. He just wanted things to be normal again.

He drifted off to sleep.

Arthur dreamed of his last mission, of that abominable failure. He dreamed of Nash going offline, a man attacking Arthur in the hall, a blur of gray hair as he bolted for the stairwell.

Gray hair…

Was that…

Arthur snapped awake at the sudden buzzing of his phone next to his ear and fumbled with it for a moment before he discovered a text message from Cobb.

 _It's over. Will be picking you up shortly_.

For several seconds Arthur could do nothing but stare at the message on the screen and wonder if he was still dreaming. Even when he was sure he was awake he still wasn't sure if the message was real. Relief flooded through him, but with it came with an odd and unexpected somberness. All he'd wanted since he'd gotten to Fischer-Morrow was to get out of it and as far away as possible, but…

Eames.

Arthur found it hard to even think about not seeing Eames every day. In fact, he'd never see him again, and that was probably good since he needed to get over this weak and stupid crush, but the idea of Eames no longer existing in his life made his chest ache. He hated the fact that this was even an issue, but the damper on his escape from this hell wouldn't lift even as he packed his things.

It hadn't been so bad though, he supposed. Sure, the bullying was terrible and the math class sucked, but hanging out with Yusuf and Robert had been nice. He'd even suffice to say that he'd enjoyed it a little bit. Then there was Eames who had been stupidly perfect from day one and had only become more so as Arthur got to know him. Despite all the conflict with his feelings and the ultimate rejection he'd suffered even if he'd been expecting it the entire time, he found that he didn't regret it. Eames was an all-around genuinely good guy. He'd given a damn when no one else ever had. Arthur had never cared about anyone because no one had ever shown him how, but Eames… Eames wormed his way inside Arthur's heart somehow with his tacky shirts and smoky voice and teasing little nickname. The connection between them had been almost instant, and if Arthur really had been a dumb teenager he probably would have been positive that they were meant to be together forever.

He wasn't a dumb teenager though, and he knew it could never be. A crush was just a crush, and eventually they'd both forget about each other. It was better off that way for both of them.

Still.

Arthur did want to say goodbye at least.

It would be better to leave on a good note and make sure that nothing was left hanging.

* * *

Arthur made the trek across campus without interruption since everyone was in the dining hall for the dance. Arthur hoped that Eames wasn't chaperoning at the moment since he most certainly didn't want to seek him out in that mass of dolled-up, sweaty, teenage bodies and possibly get his face shoved into the punch bowl (although that would be better than the toilet, he'd admit). That really wasn't how he wanted his last night to go.

He made his way up the stairs of the teacher's dormitory and over to Eames's door, but just as he was about to knock the door swung open to reveal Eames in a suit.

"Arthur," he said.

Arthur just stared back at him, momentarily entranced. It seemed that every time Arthur came across Eames he was more handsome than he remembered. It was likely just the affection he felt for the man, and he hoped it would soon pass once he was gone.

"Uh, hi," Arthur said.

"Did you need something?" Eames asked hesitantly, looking a bit confused. "Did you find Robert?"

"No, I—no…" Arthur said, looking at his feet. He still hadn't found Robert, but maybe now he'd be able to. He'd have more technology at his disposal and would be able to travel.

"Why aren't you at the dance? I was just about to head over there if you want to walk with me."

"Oh, I'm not going," Arthur told him. "Actually I got a text message from my foster dad. He's coming to pick me up. I'm leaving."

Eames's expression fell and for a moment Arthur was almost convinced that he was as upset about their relationship (or lack of one) coming to an end. "That's awfully sudden," Eames said. "You're leaving tonight?"

Arthur nodded. "Yeah, so… I just thought I would come to say goodbye. I mean… I know I've probably caused you a lot of grief, but you really do mean a lot to me Eames. Thank you for… seeing me and hearing me, listening to me. You're the first person who's ever really done that for me. I know it's stupid to say that, but it's true, you know? If things were different, I could see myself… well, it doesn't matter because things are the way they are, but still… I could see me and you together, and maybe it wouldn't even be weird. I don't know if I'd be able to make you happy. I mean, I'm emotionally constipated and recently I've started to realize how selfish I've been. It's just that I've been running my whole life trying to reach something I can grab hold of, and I've been so afraid of slowing down for fear that I'd be permanently stopped that I've missed out on a lot of the scenery. Thank you for slowing me down, I guess I should say. Thank you, Eames."

"I… you're welcome, Arthur," Eames said softly. "In fact, it was my pleasure. Listen… I know what you're talking about. I could see myself with you too, but I've done this before and I know where it ends."

"What are you talking about? The girl?" Arthur questioned, eyes widening.

"Oh, _no_ , no. No, I was telling you the truth when I told you that story. I did have a… a very brief affair with a young man when I was at university. I was twenty-one and he was seventeen, and I fell pretty hard for him… but when you're young, you don't know what you want out of life. I was so sure of myself then, but his interests changed and soon enough I didn't fit into his future. Even if you weren't my student… and now, I suppose you aren't… even though that stigma is gone, I doubt you'll stay interested in me once I'm out of your field of vision. That thing you've been running towards is your future, Arthur, and I'd be in the wrong to keep you from making a grab for it."

Arthur found himself snorting before he could help it. "You talk about this guy like you were so much older than him. How do you know that it was just his future that shifted? Maybe you guys just split off in different directions. It doesn't matter where you're going if you're right for each other."

"Big talk coming from someone like you," Eames said guardedly. Arthur was pretty sure Eames was trying to decide whether or not to be offended.

"Maybe so," Arthur shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong. Honestly, I'm not sure where what I just said even came from, but… well… I've been listening to my heart a little bit more lately. It's overdue to get its say, I guess, considering for the longest time I forgot I had one."

"Well, it really should get its say then, I guess," Eames said. "I'm not entirely sure what it's trying to convince me to do however."

"Nothing," Arthur said. "I just… I wanted to make sure that you weren't distancing yourself from someone you might really care about for the sake of a job… because what if that job isn't your future or isn't your whole future? What if you need something to live for that makes that job worth doing or worth leaving?" Arthur was trembling by then, overwhelmed by the suddenness of his own questions, of the way they squeezed right into that empty feeling he now had when he realized there was nothing for him in the world but his job.

Eames was silent, but his gaze was steady on Arthur, his lips slightly parted as if he were going to say something but forgot.

Arthur shook his head and looked down at his feet as it all became ridiculously, abundantly clear. "Oh, God, I've made such a mess…" he mumbled, carding a hand through his hair. "It's a mess, I know it is. I can't believe I've done this…"

He lifted his head to look at Eames again, finding that his vision blurred a little. "I'm sorry. Forget all of that stuff I just said. I'm just trying to force you to do something, and I shouldn't. It really is better off this way… I can't… I can't make you love me if you don't, so… I'm sorry."

Arthur turned and headed towards the stairs. He only quickened his pace when he heard Eames call after him, "No—no, Arthur, _wait_!"

So much for ending on a good note.

* * *

Arthur couldn't believe what he'd done as he fast-walked across the campus. He'd _fallen in love_ with Eames? How fucking insane was that? He shouldn't have even said goodbye. He should have just waited for Cobb to call him when he arrived and disappeared into the night just like Robert had. He should have waited for Cobb's _call_ —

Call.

Why hadn't Cobb _called_?

This was the man who thought the teenagers on television were played by real teenagers. He was an extremely intelligent man, but Arthur knew that Cobb had no use for cell phones other than work. It was doubtful he'd have any grasp of text messaging—not impossible, but definitely suspicious. Arthur had been so stupidly distracted by his own broken heart that he hadn't even taken the time to question it, but now—

A twig cracked underneath someone's foot and Arthur froze in place right in front of the fountain, eyes wide and searching through the darkness. "Who's there?" he asked.

It was possible that Cobb sent the text because he was in a hurry and Arthur was worried over nothing, but he still wished that he'd gone and retrieved his weapons from where he'd buried them before going to see Eames. He had that _feeling_ again, the dreadful one that inclined him to believe that something was about to happen, and he couldn't stop thinking about how Cobb had told him to be cautious.

"Fischer?" Arthur asked, clenching his fists.

He'd had the hunch to be suspicious of Maurice Fischer, and suddenly he was thinking of his dream again, the one of his last mission and the man with the gray hair.

"You think you've got it all figured out, don't you?" a voice said in the darkness. It was most definitely _not_ Maurice Fischer, but Arthur did recognize it.

"Not all of it," Arthur said. "I think I'm starting to understand though. Why don't you come out of the dark and talk to me?"

"I'm not here to talk. I'm here to do what Robert Fischer couldn't do, and you can bet I volunteered. You weren't even supposed to live this long."

Arthur wet his lips and turned towards the voice, taking a step forward with his fists raised and expression calm. "You've got Cobb, don't you?"

"Fischer has Cobb. I'm just the one here to cut off the loose end."

Arthur ran at the person in the darkness and tackled him and managed a few good punches before he was met with one in response. He was clipped across the jaw with the first one but dodged the second one, jumping back to quickly swipe the blood from his lips before preparing to barrel forward. If he hit him just right, Arthur knew he could shatter a knee of cut off his windpipe, but he didn't want him dead—otherwise he might not be able to find and rescue Cobb.

Arthur was wanted dead though.

The sudden crack of a pistol in the air, and the bullet whizzing by his cheek before burying itself in the concrete of the fountain, assured him of that.

Arthur attacked again, his intent to get the gun this time. There was a struggle for a moment but Arthur hadn't been able to keep up his training, and he hadn't been prepared for a fight. His vision hadn't adjusted to the darkness so he was fighting blindly. His only saving grace was that he was well-trained regardless of how his practice had slipped, and the hope that his attacker was blinded as well.

Arthur pounded the man's face a good three times and caused him to topple over. He heard the gun tumble out of his hand and Arthur immediately grabbed for it, stepping back and preparing to aim and fire.

If he hadn't been so rusty, he would have been smart enough to search for a second pistol.

 _ **POW**_.

The sound rang through Arthur's ears as a bullet tore through his chest close to his shoulder, the white-hot pain momentarily disabling all thought. On instinct he fired back and heard the man cry out. He fired again and heard the man drop his second gun as he fell to the ground whimpering.

" _Arthur_!"

He turned at the sound of his name being called, breath shaking in his throat as he dropped his own weapon. He looked down at his shirt, finding it rapidly staining red with blood.

"…but… no one ever gets me," Arthur found himself saying.

He stumbled and nearly fell but he was caught and lowered gently towards the ground. Arthur looked up and saw Eames's face, but he wasn't sure if it was real or his imagination.

"Oh, God… Arthur— _Arthur_!"

Everything went black.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 12

For a while whenever Arthur could get his thoughts together, it was just bright lights behind his eyelids and the distant muffled sounds of voices. He was vaguely aware of the pain radiating from the left side of his chest and of the pressure against his right hand, like somebody was holding it, but he couldn't quite get his eyes to open. It all faded away again before he could grasp what was going on, and he slipped back into darkness.

When he came to he found himself in a bed. To his right he saw early morning sunlight lilting through a window. To his left, Eames was asleep in a chair, his nice suit stained with blood. It took several seconds before Arthur remembered it was his own blood.

A quick survey of his body revealed that the left side of his chest and shoulder had been bandaged and the rest of his arm was in a sling. Other scrapes had been bandaged or stitched as well. "Shit," Arthur said softly, lifting his good hand to his face to rub his eyes. "Shit, shit, _shit_."

He couldn't believe this. He'd gotten caught off-guard. The memory of the fight came flooding back into his brain as the drugs in his system wore off. He recalled the scuffle, the sound of the gun going off, and Eames calling his name.

Eames had seen it happen. Eames was here. He'd probably been the one that got him to the hospital in the first place, and Arthur wasn't sure what to do. He didn't know quite how to process his presence even as he reached out to brush a fingertip down Eames's long, straight nose.

Eames stirred at the touch, eyes fluttering open. "Oh, God, _Arthur_ ," was the first thing he said, taking Arthur's hand in both of his. "Oh, God… you… do you remember what happened? Fuck, if I hadn't gone after you—if I—you might have—"

"Eames," Arthur said in an attempt to calm him down. "Yes, I remember. What happened to the shooter?"

"He ran for it," Eames said. "The police are out looking for him. He couldn't have gotten far. Christ for a while I thought he'd shot you in the heart. I thought—"

Arthur scoffed. "That bastard is as incompetent at shooting as he is with everything else, including staying dead," he said and then paused before adding, "You came after me? Why?"

"You knew the shooter?" Eames asked.

"I asked you a question first."

Eames glared at Arthur since he seemed to find his own question far more important (and honestly, it probably was), but Arthur sat there in silence and waited for an answer. "Of course I went after you," Eames sighed. "Are you daft? I couldn't just leave things like that. Arthur…"

Arthur didn't understand what Eames meant until his hand cupped Arthur's cheek. He'd been under the impression that there wasn't anything to leave, that Arthur's ridiculous and stupid feelings were one-sided because it had to be that way… but Eames was staring into his eyes, and suddenly Arthur wasn't so sure. "Eames?" Arthur questioned, voice hushed as Eames's thumb skidded just across the corner of his mouth.

"What you said… before, back at my flat, ah… the thing about my job not being my whole future and how I should have someone who makes it worth it… you were right," Eames said. "I… the moment you bloody said it I realized that. I didn't want to believe it, and I wanted to catch you and shout at you for playing with my emotions, but—but that wasn't it at all. I was angry _because_ you were right, and I was very quickly becoming aware of my lack of a moral compass. I've always been kind of aware of it, I guess, but…"

"Eames, what are you trying to say?" Arthur interrupted. He didn't have the time to listen to Eames sort out his internal conflict. He'd already wasted a lot of time in this room already. Cobb was in danger, and so was the rest of his agency.

"I came after you to try and—well, when I saw you… When I saw you get shot, I… I realized that what I felt for you was real."

Arthur was silent for several seconds before saying slowly, "What you… felt for me?"

Eames nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching a little. "It… it sounds so bloody ridiculous, but I realized as you fell that a life without you in it wasn't… it wasn't worth it. Even if you were just to be a friend or a distant acquaintance, I couldn't imagine the world with you missing from it. I just… I don't even know how to put it."

Arthur was stunned speechless. He felt his cheeks traitorously burning at the implied words beneath that statement, fear and panic coiling in his belly over what that could possibly mean. Arthur knew how he himself felt, but it had been easier when it was one-sided. There were no implications of the future when it was just his own heart at stake.

"Oh, God…" Arthur whispered, turning his eyes away. "Eames, we… we can't talk about this right now. I don't…"

"Arthur," Eames said, turning Arthur's face back towards him. "Arthur, I know that it's wrong, and I won't ask you to do anything. If you… and I… I can wait, yeah? I'm not completely lacking in morals, I swear, I just… Everything is so crazy right now. All of the security is being questioned for allowing the shooter to get by and the dance was cancelled early and the students sent back to their rooms to protect them, and despite all of that there was one thing I was sure of, and that's… that's _you_."

 _Oh, fuck_ , Arthur thought and pulled Eames in for a kiss. It was rough and all desperation, teeth clacking and tongues lashing. Arthur found himself digging his nails into the back of Eames's neck as he searched to taste every inch of his mouth, falling back onto the bed and tugging Eames with him. Even in the scramble to touch and lick and kiss, Eames still managed to be careful not to jostle Arthur's arm, even as he hiked a leg up onto the bed and nearly blanketed Arthur with his body.

It was all so, so gloriously good that Arthur would have been happy to never let it end. Still, no matter how much he wanted it, he knew that he couldn't just let it be. He gently pushed Eames off of him with his good arm, mumbling, "No… wait…"

Eames sat back, gaze a bit distant. "What? I… did I do something wrong?" he asked.

Arthur felt his own expression crumple a little. "No. No, you didn't, but… we can't do this here… _now_. I can't let you."

"No one is watching," Eames said, glancing towards the door as if to make sure.

"It doesn't matter," Arthur said, pushing himself back up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. "I can't just stay here and make out with you. A bunch of people are in danger, and I have to help them."

"What are you talking about?"

Arthur removed the IV line from his arm, reached over and started turning off the machines he was being monitored on. "Look, I haven't been completely honest with you," he said as he climbed out of the bed. "I'm not Arthur Darving. I'm not a real student. I'm twenty-two years old."

"I… what? _What_?"

Arthur grabbed his pair of jeans that had been left in Eames's care (the shirt was gone but had probably been damaged beyond use from the blood) and started shimmying his way into them. It was a difficult task with one arm, and again he wished Cobb hadn't thought that teen males only wore pants so tight their genitals couldn't breathe. "I don't expect you to fully understand. Honestly, I don't expect you to ever want anything to do with me, but the abridged version is that I'm a covert agent for a top secret company, and I was placed in Fischer-Morrow under the disguise of a teenage student to protect myself from the assassins out to kill me after a job went bad."

"I… assassins? Agents? You're _twenty-two_?"

Arthur looked back at him, feeling a bit nauseous over the offense in Eames's voice. "I know. I know it's a lot to take in, and you're probably really pissed off that I didn't tell you, but you have to understand that keeping my cover was a life or death situation. You think I wanted to let those boys shove my head in toilets, that I wanted to spend my evenings struggling through homework assignments and keeping up appearances? I had to do it, Eames. I didn't have a choice."

"You said that you trusted me… How could you keep something this big from me if you trusted me?" Eames asked, and his voice lacked the offense now. He just sounded lost and unbelievably hurt. "Are you trying to bloody tell me that all of this distress over your age and your sensibilities and my job, all of that was horseshit?"

"No, that's not it—that's not it at all, Eames. Please, believe me. I would have told you—I thought about doing it, but I couldn't because I thought it might put you in danger. I was trying to protect you."

"So—so the man who shot you. You knew him," Eames said, suddenly remembering what he'd wanted to know before Arthur's mouth had stolen his attention. "He was one of these assassins? The guy was sent to kill you?"

"No," Arthur shook his head, "no, he wasn't—okay, look, it's really complicated, and I don't have much time, but I was set up to fail my last job, and by some really shitty twist of faith I ended up hiding out at the school being run by one of the criminals I was about to bust at Cobol… at least, that's what I'm pretty sure happened. It's all starting to make sense."

"Maybe to you," Eames complained.

"Maurice Fischer works for Cobol Engineering—a company that's only a front for one of the largest criminal organizations in the world," Arthur explained as he pushed his feet into his tennis shoes without bothering to untie them. "I infiltrated Cobol after a tip from a man named Saito who works for Proclus Global came in. He was wary of making deals with criminals, and while we didn't have any evidence to prove this wasn't just a businessman trying to destroy his competition, my boss trusted Saito. They are apparently old friends. I don't know. Anyway, I infiltrated the Cobol establishment, but on the night I planned to crack open the case, I was caught and would have been killed if I hadn't escaped. My partner who was working with me on the job was killed… or at least that was what he wanted us to think."

Eames was silent by that point, his expression no longer readable. Arthur couldn't stop staring into his eyes, even though he wanted to.

"Nash, my partner, set me up," Arthur said. "He must have been in on it with Fischer or at least someone at Cobol, and he wanted me dead. When I escaped, he probably thought he had failed, but then I was thrown into his lap by hiding out at the school where Maurice Fischer recognized me. Nash must have given them my picture, copies of all the intel we did, everything. It explains how they kept finding the other agents, how they found Cobb. Nash probably still had access to his files… and when R… when the person they'd planned to have kill me wouldn't go through with it, Nash probably volunteered to do it himself. Unfortunately for him, he's a crappy shot."

"Maurice Fischer knows that you're at this hospital," Eames said softly. Finally he seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation. "He knows you're not dead."

"We're going to have to move fast and inconspicuously," Arthur said. "I'll have to get to him before he gets to me. Cobb is probably close by and being held captive, possibly with other agents. Nash has probably already been picked up by one of Fischer's men, and if not the police will no doubt find him by this afternoon. It's not like you can get far with a bullet in your knee and another in your foot."

"So, what's the plan?" Eames asked.

Arthur smirked. "Think you can help me get out of here?"

"I'm sure I can think of something, darling."

"Now, see… that nickname doesn't work anymore. My last name isn't—"

"I know, love," Eames said, leaning in to kiss Arthur quickly before going to the door. "I'm still angry with you for this whole mess, but there are more pressing matters to attend to now. We'll discuss it later."

"Will we?" Arthur asked.

Eames hesitated with his hand over the handle on the door and looked back at Arthur.

He didn't answer the question.

Instead, Eames opened the door and stepped out, looking both ways a few times before motioning to Arthur that it was clear. As soon as Arthur stepped out of the room, Eames put his jacket around his shoulders. "The gown is a bit obvious," Eames said.

"There's really no way to not be obvious," Arthur replied.

"I'm working with what I've got here," Eames scoffed. "Just don't look anyone in the eye."

"I am aware of how escaping works, Eames. I sort of do it for a living."

"You're a magician?" Eames questioned. Arthur glared at him. "I'm just kidding," Eames added, grinning cheekily. Arthur kind of wanted to kiss his whole face.

"Now," Eames said, "are you sure this isn't something I can do for you? It would probably be better if you stayed in the hospital. The bullet didn't hit any vital organs, but it did a number on the muscle there. They said you wouldn't be allowed to leave for at least a few days."

"I have to do this," Arthur said as they slipped into the lobby. One nurse at the desk was on the phone, the other playing facebook games on the computer. There were a few people in the waiting room, but none of them were paying much attention to them. Arthur was sure there were security cameras all over the place, and they had no doubt already been caught on a few, but if Arthur could get out and rescue his comrades he could make sure the hospital was paid off in order to leave both him and Eames be. "Let's go," Arthur said, and he and Eames did their best to act natural as they cross the waiting room.

Just as they reached the doors, the alarms started going off, and they barely managed to make it outside before the metal screens descended down over all of the exits.

"Well," Eames said. "That should buy us a little time."

"The police are on their way here, I can guarantee it," Arthur said. "We need to get out of here. Did you bring your car?"

"No, I rode with you in the ambulance."

"Fantastic," Arthur said flatly.

Eames smirked. "Darling, I think you're underestimating me," he said. "I told you I was a terror when I was a teenager, did I not?"

Eames picked up a rock and smashed the driver's side window of a car, unlocked it, and opened the door to brush the glass out onto the street. "We'll just borrow it and your agency can pay them back. This is an emergency after all. Lives hang in the balance."

"Eames, we don't have a key," Arthur said. "I'm not exactly prepared to hotwire a car with one arm."

"Lucky for you I already know how to do that," Eames grinned, and for a moment Arthur just wanted to fuck him in the backseat and screw the consequences.

"Seriously?" Arthur stammered, shocked.

"I used to do it all the time to my father's car so I could go out at night," Eames said, disappearing under the dashboard. "My record was four seconds."

The car came to life exactly five seconds later, and Eames popped up with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Well, get in," he said.

Arthur went around to the passenger side and crawled in. "You were a regular criminal as a kid," Arthur said in wonder as Eames pulled out of the parking space with tires screeching. "Here I thought when you said you were a terror you were just pulling pigtails and playing pranks, but you actually _stole a car_."

"Borrowed," Eames clarified. "I always brought it back in the morning."

"I don't even know who you are anymore," Arthur teased, and he was sure Eames would have punched his arm had the one closest to him not already been in a sling.

"I really don't think you're in a position to even joke about that right now," Eames said and then tore out of the parking lot.

Arthur sat back in his seat and exhaled. "We'll go to the school first. I have some weaponry buried in the woods that I can use. I can change my clothes and you can too, and maybe I can get some information from Yusuf about Fischer's current whereabouts. Fuck, I need something to go on. If only that incompetent asshole Nash hadn't gotten away. I should have killed him, but I thought I might need some information out of him. Fuck."

"I take it you don't plan on hesitating to blow his brains out the next time you see him."

"Oh, I'll give him the opportunity to explain himself," Arthur assured Eames, "and then I'll decide what to do. I'll either put him out of his misery, or I'll hand him over to all of the agents he betrayed and let them figure it out."

Eames studied the side of Arthur's face for a moment before looking back at the road. "There's only so many places Fischer could be. It's doubtful he could get far with a hostage, even with all of the money in the world, and it's not as though there are just a ton of places around here."

"I'll find him," Arthur mumbled. "I can track Cobb's cell phone signal if I have to. They have it. They used it to lure me out and put me under a false sense of security."

"So, you track him with the phone signal. Then what?"

"I haven't really thought that far into the future. I'm sort of flying by the seat of my pants right now."

"And what can I do to help?"

Arthur looked at him. "Stay alive."

* * *

The schoolyard was empty when they arrived, the gates shut tight and security on high alert. Arthur started hunting for tools to try and scale the walls and get inside, but Eames had other plans. He parked the car in a wooded area and covered it with branches and then showed Arthur a secret passage a few feet away in the form of an underground tunnel.

"What the fuck?" Arthur said in surprise.

"Lots of old schools have tunnels like this," Eames said. "These have existed since before this was Fischer-Morrow. Back in the olden days, folks would use these tunnels to get from building to building while avoiding inclement weather. They're prohibited to use, but we haven't exactly been law-abiding citizens lately, now have we?"

"There's got to be all kinds of horrible chemicals down there," Arthur said flatly.

"Well, we'd best hurry."

They slipped down inside the tunnel and the door thumped closed above them. From there they moved quickly, the light of Eames's cell phone guiding the way. Arthur was relieved to find that Eames seemed to have a pretty good idea as to how to navigate, though they did get a bit lost a few times. When they climbed the stairs up to another doorway, they found themselves just outside of the boys' dormitory.

"I take your weapons are buried somewhere close by, yeah?" Eames asked and then ducked down, closing the lid so that the passing security guard didn't see them.

"About thirty feet behind the building," Arthur said. "I marked the spot with a rock."

"Make quick work of it," Eames said. "I'll wait here and become a diversion if need be."

"Suddenly you're the man with the plan," Arthur said, smirking a little. "If this teaching thing doesn't work out, I can see if I can get you a spot in the training program."

"Go," Eames said, shoving Arthur out of the hole when the coast was clear.

Arthur found the spot where he'd buried the bag almost laughably easy. If anyone had known to go look for it, he was positive it wouldn't have taken long to find. It wasn't exactly the quick work Eames wanted from him, since he was digging with one hand, but at least he hadn't buried it too deeply. He kept to the trees until security passed again and then made two stomps on the door Eames was hiding under. Both of them sprinted to the boys' dormitory and up the steps, and Arthur was just relieved that the keys were still in the pocket of his annoyingly tight jeans.

"What the hell?" Yusuf cried when Arthur and Eames burst into the room. "Arthur? Mr—what?"

"It's a long story," Arthur said, tossing Eames his jacket and undoing the sling on his arm so that he could get out of the hospital gown. "Have you seen Maurice Fischer today?"

"Uh, yeah," Yusuf said, climbing down off of his loft bed where he'd been reading. "Christ, Arthur, your shoulder."

"I'm fine," Arthur said, unlocking his trunk of clothes and pulling out a fresh pair of clothes that he could blend and move around in. "Where'd you see Fischer?"

"In the dining hall this morning. Some bloke I'd never seen before came in and whispered something to him, and then he left. Fucking hell, Arthur, when I heard you'd been shot—"

"Again, it's a long story," Arthur said but fell silent when Yusuf started helping him button up the shirt he'd put on.

"It scared the life out of me, mate," Yusuf said, offering an awkward smile. "I thought I'd lost my best friend for a minute there. I wanted to come and visit you, but they're not letting anyone onto or off of campus. It's on bloody lockdown."

"So, Fischer is still on campus?" Arthur asked.

"As far as I know. Oh! I forgot to mention, I got a phone call from Robert Fischer."

"What?" Arthur asked. "What did he say?"

"He didn't have a lot of time. Apparently he was calling from someone else's phone. His father shipped him back to Australia, and he had to steal one of the cleaning ladies' phones to even call here. He said to keep you away from his dad and that people were trying to kill you. He said you were a secret agent or something. It was such bollocks. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't already heard you'd been shot."

"He's all right then," Arthur said.

"He's locked up like bloody Cinderella, but he's not physically harmed, no," Yusuf replied. "Arthur, what's going on?"

Arthur hesitated for a moment as Eames helped him back into his sling. "I'm about to shake things up." He opened his bag and handed Yusuf a pistol. "If anyone comes here for me and tries to hurt you, don't hesitate. Keep this on your person and don't go anywhere."

"It's Saturday, mate," Yusuf said, staring down at the gun in his hand and looking more than a little intimidated, "I didn't plan on even getting out of bed."

"Good. Be careful. See if you can touch base with Robert again. Have him text me any information that might be valuable to me if you can get a hold of him."

Arthur put on his utility belt and holster and handed some of his easily concealed weapons to Eames before arming himself with a few. He shoved his feet into a pair of boots and nodded at Yusuf. "Thanks."

"Will you be coming back?" Yusuf asked.

"I don't know," Arthur admitted.

Yusuf's mouth formed a thin line before he offered, "You be careful too, Arthur."

With that, Arthur clapped a hand on Yusuf's shoulder, and then he and Eames were gone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 13

Arthur lifted the door on the tunnel to find himself underneath a desk in Eames's office. "Well, I guess this explains how you know about the tunnel," Arthur said as he had Eames pull him out, keeping his head low so as not to bang it on the desk.

"I'd be lying if I didn't say I hid in there on occasion to avoid talking to some of my superiors," Eames admitted as he shut the lid. "Mal was the one to inform me about it, however. This used to be her office."

Arthur brushed dust and dirt off of his clothes and inhaled the fresh air. "You know, you might actually be a little bit insane."

Eames shrugged. "So, what do we do now?"

Arthur was already fishing one of his listening devices out of his bag, handing one to Eames. "You can communicate with me with this. It's subtler than a cell phone and isn't quite so traceable either. What I need you to do is keep watch for suspicious activity. I need you to tell me if you see someone you've never seen before."

"What are you going to do in the meantime?"

"I'm going to see if Cobb's on the premises. Maybe Nash is too. If the cops and security aren't even letting Fischer on and off campus, he's going to have to be playing this pretty damned close to the chest. This building was renovated and added on to— I noticed that the first day I was here. Maybe there's some secret rooms that only Fischer knows about where he's conducting his illicit activities."

"That might be a bit of a long shot."

"In my line of work, you find that long shots are usually the ones that hit their mark," Arthur said, "metaphorically, of course."

"You'll be all right with one arm out of commission?"

"I'll manage."

Eames didn't look too pleased with that answer.

Arthur sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. "I'm not immobile. I'll be fine. I do this for a living. Stop seeing me as your weak, harmless student and you won't be so worried."

"I stopped seeing you as a student the moment you told me the truth, and I never saw you as weak or harmless," Eames replied. "I'm not stopping you, but you can't keep me from being concerned." He reached out and tugged Arthur closer, hand settling on the back of his neck. "You call me if you find them and tell me your whereabouts. I'll come to assist you. I know I'm not an agent like you, but I'm the best you've got right now, and I damn sure am not letting you go it alone. You're not alone anymore, Arthur."

Arthur just took a moment to look back into Eames's gaze, feeling the honesty of that statement radiating off of him and letting it warm him. "I know," Arthur said.

It seemed like an opportunity for a kiss, but Arthur avoided it for now, knowing he had to get some business taken care of. They parted and Arthur slipped off down one hall while Eames headed towards the back of the school. He seemed to be of the belief that, if suspicious people were getting inside, they weren't going to be using the front door. Arthur headed towards the dining hall, figuring it would be best to start his search at the front and work his way back. He turned on his listening device and slipped it into his ear and started searching.

The halls were basically empty since it was Saturday, which was a relief. Arthur could move freely without having to be discreet (a hell of a feat considering the sheer amount of supplies he had on him). He knew there were surely security cameras watching him, that Maurice Fischer was probably already well aware of his presence in the school, but at this point Arthur was ready for a fight. If Fischer came looking for him, that would just make Arthur's job a lot easier.

Still, he didn't like the idea that they had Cobb. If they hadn't already killed him (and Arthur would bet they hadn't), then they were holding him for some sort of leverage in case they needed it. Odds were that they were still trying to get certain codes and locations out him that Nash didn't know, and while Arthur was sure that Cobb could be cracked, he knew that Cobb was also already a little bit insane. There was no chance he was going to give into their demands.

Arthur soon found himself in the lobby of the school. As it was probably one of the oldest parts of the building, Arthur could guess that if there were any secret rooms, they would be here. He was displeased to discover a couple of students leaving the dining hall as he arrived at the entrance off the corridor, so he paused and pressed himself as flatly against the wall around the corner as he could muster until they passed. As he stood there his fingertips brushed against an indention in the wall that shouldn't have been there. He let his fingertips follow the line upwards for a few inches before his eyes lit up. He'd stumbled upon a secret door completely by accident. It had been painted over, and no one had used it in quite some time, but he could just about guarantee that it was an entrance he was looking for.

He immediately started feeling along the wall with his good hand, trying to figure out where best to attempt and bust it down, and that was when a voice piped up from behind him.

"What are you doing here?"

Arthur looked over his shoulder to see Kevin, of all people, and his asshole friends.

"They told us you were in the hospital," Kevin said. He looked a bit confused and nervous, but then again Arthur _was_ wearing an alarming amount of weaponry in a place that didn't even allow students to carry x-acto knives. Kevin might not have been the best and brightest, but he would have had to have been blind to not see at least the gun on his hip.

Arthur watched them for a moment, and he realized with a bit of a thrill that they were _intimidated_. It felt entirely too good after what they'd put Arthur through, but that bliss faded away quite quickly and was done with. Now that Arthur was standing on the more powerful side, he could once again see the group of boys for what they really were: insecure, improperly raised children.

Arthur looked down at his wounded arm and then back up at the boys. "There's a door hidden in this wall," he said, stepping aside. "Feel the crease of it if you don't believe me. I need to get inside that door. Do you think you can help me?"

"You want us to help you?" Kevin asked, looking even more bug-eyed than before.

"Well," Arthur said lightly, looking the hidden door up and down, "I could do it myself, but I'd rather not risk throwing out my only good shoulder. I've kind of got a fight waiting for me and I already can't use one of my hands."

"A fight? Is that why our dads were here last night?" one of Kevin's friends (Arthur was pretty sure his name was Ethan) asked sheepishly.

It was Arthur's turn to be surprised. "Your fathers are here? All of them?"

There were nods from all of them. Ethan elaborated, "They were here yesterday evening before the dance. My dad said he'd come to help chaperone, but the whole time the dance went on I didn't see him there."

"My dad said he had business to attend to," Kevin added. "He told me to stay out of it if I knew what was good for me."

Of course they were in on it. Suddenly the fact that their kids could do basically whatever they wanted made sense. If Fischer were to have one of the boys punished or expelled, then he could be ratted out. It was all so obvious, and Arthur hated that he'd been so stupid that it had taken this long to figure out. He sighed. "What would you say if I told you that your fathers were doing some very bad things, and I needed you to help me stop them?"

"I would say…" Kevin paused and then managed a small smile. "I would say that you wouldn't have to tell me they were doing bad things for me to be willing to stop my dad. All he ever does is yell at me."

Arthur could tell that Kevin's dad did more than just yell from the way his voice trembled on the word, but he didn't push the issue. "All I need you to do is break down the door. After that I want you to go back to your rooms and stay there."

They all seemed to accept this, nodding enthusiastically and muttering in agreement. Arthur still couldn't help but be a little surprised that they listened to him.

The biggest of the group of them stepped forward, and on the count of three rammed the door with his shoulder. It didn't give, so another joined in to ram it with him. It cracked the paint the second time, and on the third slam it broke open, sending them toppling to the floor on the other side.

"Dude," Kevin said, peeking inside with Arthur. "It's a hallway."

"It used to be part of the school before it was renovated and turned into Fischer-Morrow," Arthur said, reaching out to help up one of the boys while Kevin helped up the other one, "and it's exactly where I need to go. Thanks."

"Arthur," Kevin said hesitantly. Arthur looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. "I'm… I'm sorry about all that happened."

"It's okay," Arthur said, offering a tight smile. It wasn't, but he really didn't have the time to argue.

"Is there anything else we can do?"

"Just go back to your rooms. Oh, and don't treat people like crap anymore." He saluted them and took off down the hall.

* * *

Arthur hadn't been wandering the hall for more than five minutes when he received a call from Eames. "I haven't seen a bloody thing," Eames's voice said over the line. "Find anything?"

"Getting there," Arthur said. "I'll try and keep you posted."

"Sounds good," Eames said, and Arthur could practically picture him leaning back against the wall and smirking. "So, what are you wearing?"

" _Eames_ ," Arthur scolded, but he couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face.

"Oh, what, just because it's a serious life-and-death situation doesn't mean we can't have a little fun," Eames chuckled. Arthur thought that the sentence sort of described Eames and him perfectly.

"You're an animal," Arthur said flatly. "As much as I like the purr of your voice, can the shenanigans wait until later?"

"Oh, you like the purr of my voice, do you?"

"Eames."

"Right, I understand," Eames laughed. "This communication device is bloody cool. You'll have to get me one of these."

"Eames—"

"Yes, yes, I'm signing off."

The line fell silent and Arthur just shook his head, grinning for a moment before returning to the task at hand. He pulled out his gun and kept to the side of the wall, inching slowly forward as he began to pick up on the sound of voices. He cocked his gun slowly, grateful that the sound didn't bounce off of the bare walls too much, and then he rounded the corner, aiming and ready to fire.

Arthur didn't recognize the men, but he knew immediately that they were Fischer's because they seemed to be expecting him. Arthur squeezed the trigger twice and fired off a bullet for each of them, sending them crashing to the floor.

He didn't mortally wound them, which was odd for him, but he supposed it'd be nice to watch them live through the justice they were going to be served. He whacked each of them with his gun a few times until they were unconscious and kept moving.

He only made it a couple of feet before a door swung open, and Arthur turned to find himself facing the barrel of Nash's gun, a gun that had already injured him once. "Nash," Arthur greeted impassively.

Nash wasn't in the best of shape. His entire leg was bandaged from the bullets Arthur had supplied it with, and odds are he hadn't received top-notch medical treatment for it. He looked tired and weak, probably from dealing with the pain without proper medication to deal with the pain. It was really so pathetic that Arthur nearly felt sorry for him, but he couldn't quite manage it considering the circumstances.

"You should have just kept your head down," Nash sneered. "You would've been better off in the hospital."

"Why? So it'd make an easier shot for one of Fischer's men to blow my brains out?"

"It's going to happen either way, so you might as well be comfortable."

Arthur let his finger press against the trigger but didn't pull it just yet. "You sold me out. You sold out all of us, Nash. Why?"

" _Why_?" Nash spat. "Why do you _think_?"

Arthur's silence in response only seemed to provoke him more.

"No matter what I did was never good enough!" Nash shouted. "I worked my ass off to make it into the program, and you can bet that no one worked harder than me once I was there. I put _everything_ into my work, but did it get me anywhere? _No_. I made a mistake once or twice like any normal human being would, and then suddenly I was the poster boy for incompetence. I couldn't do anything to please anyone no matter how hard I tried… and then _you_ …

" _You_ came along, fresh-faced and powerful, skipping through the training program as if it was effortless. You were everyone's dream of a perfect agent—deadly, cunning, intelligent, calculating. No matter what mission you went on, you always came back entirely unscathed. Nobody could _touch_ you. You were the youngest agent in the field and no one could even _compare_ to you. The only thing they could even tease you about was that you looked so young. Everyone admired you. Everyone _respected_ you. Do you know how _infuriating_ that is?

"All of my hard work looked like fucking child's play to you… and then you had the nerve to look down your nose at me and say that _I_ was inadequate. 'I can't believe they haven't fired him yet', you said. 'Nash is an idiot.' 'Nash is a terrible shot.' 'Nash can't do anything right except run away from danger.' You think I never heard you when you said those things? Oh, I know you did. You wanted me to hear your disdain, you fucking cunt. You didn't care that my job meant _everything_ to me. You never cared about anyone or anything at all. It was all about being better, and better, and better, and better, and you didn't care whose toes you had to step on to get there.

"Cobb put me on a mission with you, but don't think I didn't know it was a last resort. Everyone told me I was so lucky to be able to work with someone as talented as you, while I know they told you to tread carefully in case Nash fucks up again… but no, no I wasn't going to stand for it anymore. You can only be shit on so many times before you get the hell out of the way. I had already set things into motion."

"You told Fischer about our infiltration," Arthur said.

"He offered me immunity. He offered me _respect_. Cobol had a place for me. All of my knowledge of architecture, of floor plans, and all of my history with the agency… I was of use to them. I wasn't just stupid, incompetent Nash. With my help, not only could they put an end to Saito, but they could put an end to anyone who tried to stop them… but you just couldn't die, could you? You had to escape like you always did."

"Yeah, well, it still worked in your favor, didn't it? Sending me here?" Arthur asked, "Or was that part of the plan too?"

"A stroke of luck on my end for once," Nash replied. "Perhaps the universe was tired of seeing your unappreciative ass succeed in life too."

"So why not just kill me immediately? Why wait?"

"Cobb was focused on you since you were his perfect little boy-toy, so we had more freedom to move as we pleased. Besides, Fischer didn't want to rule out the idea that it might not be you. Honestly it just played too perfectly to be possible. It became apparent pretty quickly though. You were convincing enough physically, but nothing could erase that smug entitlement you had."

"Fischer wanted Robert to cozy up to me and then have him off me," Arthur said, "but he wouldn't do it."

"Yeah, the boy failed his initiation, so what? All Fischer needed was a gunman in the dark. A single bullet to the skull, and then I could take you away and no one would know what happened to you. By then we'd already closed in on Cobb, so really there wasn't much left to do but dispose of you. Of course, _yet again_ , you manage to walk away alive… but not this time."

Arthur rolled his eyes and fired a bullet into Nash's arm, causing him to yelp in pain and fumble with his pistol. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?" Arthur asked him. "I'm not afraid of someone who would sell out for a little bit of glory. I let you have your spiel, but I'm not just going to bow my head and let you do this anymore. If you were better at your job then you wouldn't have been talked about that way, and if you hadn't been so focused on being better than me, then maybe you would have succeeded."

Nash yelped and fired at Arthur, the bullet burying itself in the wall.

"And you _are_ a crappy shot," Arthur said, but before he could ask Nash where Fischer and Cobb were there was a deafening _pow_ and then Nash fell forward, hitting the floor with a dull thud, a bullet buried in his back.

"He talks too much, don't you think?" Maurice Fischer said.

Arthur stared, stunned, at Nash's body and then at Maurice Fischer who was sitting in an armchair placed at the end of a long table occupied by other chairs. A few different men were in the room, looking a bit startled from the commotion but otherwise unaffected by the body bleeding out in the doorway. Arthur wasn't too terribly concerned about them—they didn't look like the type that bothered to get their hands dirty. Fischer had his security guys behind him, and they were the ones to be worried about.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to get here," Maurice said, eyeing Arthur with that same sneer he always did. "Nash was right about it being better for you to stay in the hospital. That arm probably feels pretty bad, doesn't it?"

Arthur shrugged his good shoulder, still glancing back and forth between Fischer and Nash. "You… you killed him."

"Yes, well, he'd out-served his usefulness. He couldn't get a bullet in your heart or in your head and decided to monologue when he had the opportunity to fix his mistake. You're right. He did dwell a bit too much on the details." He was so casual and calm about it that it left Arthur unsettled, though he was sure the man was confident that there wasn't much Arthur could do.

Arthur gaped for a moment, and then Maurice was sitting up, rolling his eyes. "Don't act like you care now, Arthur. What's done is done. You'll see him again in a few minutes."

"The hell I will," Arthur growled, aiming his pistol at Maurice. "Tell me where Cobb is."

"Why would I do that? It's the only thing keeping you from shooting me. You know I wouldn't give that information to anyone else here in the room, and he could be absolutely anywhere in the world."

Arthur's frown deepened. "So what… you're just going to kill me too? Like you killed Nash?"

"That depends," Fischer said lightly. "See, Cobb hasn't told us everything, and if you give us the information we need to take down the rest of your organization and to get access to your computers, then I might let you live."

"No, you won't," Arthur replied. "Don't take me for a fool, Fischer. I haven't made it this long being an idiot."

"You've made it this long because you've got the strongest case of dumb luck I've ever seen. Your luck has run out, Arthur."

Suddenly all eyes were on Arthur, and he realized that he needed to move fast or he was going to be dead within the next few seconds. He could tell from a quick scan of the room that none of the suits gathered around Fischer's tables had guns, but that didn't mean they didn't have other weapons. The security goons definitely had guns, and Fischer—well, that was obvious. He could dodge a knife, but bullets weren't so easy. He'd need cover, and there wasn't much to choose from in the room. He couldn't head back to the main area of the school because, even if he were to make it down the hall without being blown away, he wasn't about to put innocent kids in danger.

When the guns went off, Arthur had no choice but to dive. It was unbearably painful to land on his bad arm, but he was pretty sure the bullets would hurt a hell of a lot worse. He rolled as another round was fired in his direction, throwing down one of the unoccupied chairs to shield him. Fischer did at least seem more concerned about protecting his investments (or rather, his investors) than making sure Arthur was dead since the security goons were being careful with their shots, so it gave Arthur a smidgen of relief. Still, he wasn't counting on that to ultimately save him.

A bullet grazed his calf, causing his mouth to open in a silent scream of pain. He turned, aimed, and fired, disarming the man who had shot him, but then another one was on top of him, pulling him into a chokehold and back to his feet. The third man approached and pressed the muzzle of his gat to Arthur's forehead.

Suddenly, over the line of Arthur's listening device, a voice said, "Arthur? Arthur, come in!"

Eames.

The gun was pressed more firmly into Arthur's forehead, causing him to wince. "Who is that?" the man demanded.

Out of Arthur's peripheral vision, he could see Fischer watching with mild interest. "Communicating with someone, Arthur?" Fischer asked. "Well, we know it can't be any of your agent friends because you don't have any friends and we've got all of them captured or killed except for you. Someone from here is helping you."

Arthur stayed silent, and Eames's voice kept buzzing in his ear, asking for him to answer and growing more concerned with every second the line was quiet. He hoped Eames would get the hint that now was a very, very, _very_ bad time, no matter what he wanted to tell him.

"So, who is it, Arthur?" Fischer asked.

He said nothing.

The security man whipped him across the face with the butt of the gun and then pressed it back to his forehead. Arthur could feel a trickle of blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth

"Arthur," Fischer said, growing agitated. "You'd best comply with us. We'll kill you and find him ourselves. You might as well save us the trouble."

Arthur snorted. "Go fuck yourself."

"Do you really think you're at enough of an advantage to sass?" Maurice asked, finally getting up from his chair and approaching, grabbing Arthur harshly by the hair and yanking it so he turned to look at him. "I know the people you associated with while you were here, and it's a fairly short list. I can have them killed one by one until none of them are left. Do not test my power, Arthur."

"Do it," Arthur challenged. "Go ahead. You don't think it'll look suspicious that students, teachers, and your wife have all died under your guidance? You don't think the police will start digging at that point? Let me tell you something right now, Fischer. You may have found a way to clean up your records so there's no proof of all of this, but Robert knows. Other people know. Before you could get rid of everyone, you'd be found out. You're living on borrowed time as it is."

"You don't know that."

Arthur grinned, teeth pink from blood. "Oh, but I do. Believe me, I do. I may not have had the ability to put the suspicion on you while I was here, but I told Cobb that there was something unsettling about you. He looked through your record and didn't find anything, but if I know Cobb and how much he trusts me, he's had people keeping their eyes on you since I got a feeling you were bad news. My gut has never led me wrong before. You're not coming out of this clean, Fischer. You can have me killed right now, but that will just be more blood on your hands. All the money in the world can't save you."

"We have Cobb," Fischer growled, eyes widening.

"Only because he let you catch him. Maybe the reason you can't tell me where you're hiding him is because he's already escaped."

Panicked, Fischer shouted, pressing his gun to Arthur's temple.

"You've already got a gun to my head," Arthur replied smugly. "The second bullet would really just be overkill, I'd imagine. So he escaped, did he? Cobb is pretty much insane, so it doesn't surprise me that he could find a way."

"He didn't escape," Fischer spat. "He's still sitting pretty with the other agents in the tunnel underneath the gymnasium."

Arthur's eyebrows lifted. "The tunnel?" he chuckled. "How do you think I got in here?"

At that point Fischer went still, mouth hanging open. Arthur had backed him into a corner. Arthur knew he had done so. Everyone in the room did. All of Fischer's allies were squirming in their chairs.

"All of those people saying I was the best," Arthur informed him, "weren't just blowing smoke out their asses. There's a reason…

" _No one gets me._ "

"I'll _kill you_!" Fischer commanded.

Arthur saw Fischer's finger fall over the trigger as if in slow motion. He exhaled slowly as he realized that this was it. This was the end. Unless some act of God took place in the next half a second, his brains were about to be splattered on the wall.

He realized that he didn't want to do this anymore.

The rush of adrenaline, the battle, the constant running… The thrill had never had any staying power, and now Arthur realized that it wasn't worth his life. He'd been rushing and rushing for so long, trying to reach that euphoria of things being perfect, but now he realized that this job wasn't it. Ultimately, his happiness would not last. He would keep striving and striving to be better in the hopes that it would satisfy him, but it was empty.

_What if that job isn't your future or isn't your whole future? What if you need something to live for that makes that job worth doing or worth leaving?_

Arthur had told that to Eames himself, and now he knew why he'd said it.

Arthur wanted more out of his life. He wanted to have something to make all of this worthwhile. He wanted Eames.

…but it was too late for that, wasn't it?

_BANG._


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, covert agent, has his cover blown during a job hunting down an underground criminal ring. With a price on his head, Arthur's boss has no choice but to hide Arthur away under a new identity... which just happens to be that of a teenage boy at a boarding school. Now he's forced to play the part of a sixteen year old and deal with classes, a roommate, and bullies-- not to mention the fact that he still doesn't know how his picture ended up in the hands of his enemies. It isn't all bad though. At least he has an extremely attractive teacher named Eames.

Chapter 14

Arthur took a few deep breaths, eyes wide, hand shaking. He watched Fischer crumple to the floor and felt his men immediately back off of him. The whole room was silent and tense as they all tried to figure out what had happened and what to do next. Arthur turned his gaze towards the doorway and saw agents including Cobb filing in with their guns trained on Fischer's men. In the middle of it all was _Eames_ with the gun Arthur had given him still pointed towards where Fischer had been.

Arthur realized immediately that Eames had been calling because he had found the agents in the tunnel under the gym. He must have gotten bored waiting around and gone snooping. He'd rescued them and then called to tell Arthur the good news… and then he'd run to save him when he realized Arthur was in trouble.

Arthur dropped his own gun, having forgotten about it until that moment, and limped towards Eames, jaw still slack in amazement.

"Eames, you… I… how…" Arthur stammered.

Eames lowered the gun, sliding it into his belt. "Lucky shot," was all he could manage as an explanation.

Arthur just shook his head in amazement, still in a daze even as Eames thumbed the blood off of Arthur's chin. "Look at you, darling. You're like a ghost," Eames said affectionately, carding his hand through Arthur's hair.

"How did you find them?" Arthur asked, resisting the urge to collapse into Eames's arms to the best of his ability.

"Well, while I was sitting there, I really thought about it," Eames said. "Fischer wasn't about to hole up his captives far away from him, and even though he surely knew about the tunnels, it wasn't exactly pertinent for him to slip away from the school grounds when the police were already suspicious. So, I thought that perhaps he had these friends of yours hidden here, and I realized that the tunnel was at its widest point underneath the gym. It's been used as a shelter during bad storms and is the only part of the tunnel still with lighting. I went to check and sure enough there they were."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"A lot of dumb luck has been working in my favor today, I guess," Eames said and pulled Arthur close to him. All Arthur could do after that was sag into his embrace, tension slowly releasing as he realized that yes, it was over, but once again he'd walked out on the other side of it alive.

* * *

The next few hours were a flurry of activity, and Arthur ended up trapped in the middle of most of it. Arrests were made, stories were told, and papers were filed. A medic was brought to the scene to patch Arthur up, and then he had to write a check for repairs for the car he and Eames had stolen. It took all of Cobb's power to try and keep it all hush-hush, since there were reporters trying to get inside and find out what had gone on. Arthur tried to help out as much as he could, but he got a bit swept up. So many of the captured agents were clapping him on his good shoulder, embracing him, _thanking_ him for saving their lives. It was bizarre. Arthur had known these people for years, and they'd always respected his abilities, but they had never gone out of their way to really _talk_ to him before. They had apparently been too intimidated and had thought he wouldn't have given them the time of day. They weren't exactly wrong in that aspect.

Arthur was happy to do what he could since it was what needed doing, even as he was constantly stopped by random students and teachers to ask him questions that he mostly couldn't answer since they were classified. Suddenly Arthur, former social pariah, was the most popular boy in school.

"Arthur," Mal said when she managed to catch him. "I had no idea. So, I wasn't talking with your father on the phone?"

"No, actually, that was my boss, Dominic Cobb," he had said, nodding in Cobb's direction.

Mal had looked the man up and down, impressed, and said, "Is he single?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and said, "He asked me the same thing about you, actually."

Arthur hoped they did get together. Cobb could use a little quelling of his insanity, or at least could use another outlet with which to dispense it.

He managed to be caught by Yusuf for a few seconds, but all he had to report was that he couldn't get back in touch with Robert. Arthur knew it didn't matter. Robert Fischer would know his father was dead soon. It was only a matter of time

The boys who had helped Arthur get into the hall weren't too terribly solemn about watching their fathers be carted away in police cars. A few even thanked Arthur when they got the chance, including Kevin who took Arthur aside and apologized for what he had done. Arthur couldn't bother to be angry with him anymore.

After the scuffle had ended though, Arthur had completely lost sight of Eames. He was sure he was being bombarded with questions just like Arthur was, but he still didn't like the fact that he couldn't see him. He hadn't gotten over the shock of the moment to really tell him anything, and after his brush with death Arthur was finding that he had quite a lot to say. As time wore on and nothing seemed to slow down, Arthur was afraid he might not get the chance.

"The worst of it is over," Cobb informed Arthur during the one tiny break in the chaos, "but there's still a lot of red tape to comb through."

Arthur knew what that meant. He couldn't stop now because the job wasn't done. He imagined Cobb would be booking the first flight out of Connecticut for the both of them. A new headquarters had to be found and set up, family members of deceased agents had to be informed, the living ones would need new identities crafted, and that was just the things they had to do for their agency. There were a whole slew of things to clean up behind Fischer, including making sure his illegal business deals were put to rest and making sure Saito was informed that Cobol Engineering would no longer be a problem to him. Even though Saito was a friend of Cobb's, Arthur knew they would still need to set up a routine of checks and balances to make sure Saito's deals didn't turn dirty either. Hush money would need to be sent out to witnesses.

In all honesty, the hard part was just beginning. Arthur had several months of grueling work ahead of him, and he knew he couldn't back out on Cobb now when he needed him the most.

Arthur finally managed to catch a glimpse of Eames in the crowd, but by then he realized that now wasn't the right time. They wouldn't be able to see each other, and Arthur didn't have a phone number he could give him since all his previous information had been compromised.

He turned towards Cobb, sighing, and said, "All right. Let's get to work. After it's done though, I need to talk to you."

* * *

It was summertime, and Arthur could feel the back of his t-shirt sticking to him even though the sun was going down. He slipped inside the bar he'd been requested to meet at in London, finishing off his cigarette and tossing it into the nearby ashtray. He hadn't really been able to kick the habit, he supposed.

Robert Fischer was sitting at a small table near the piano, leaning his cheek on his fist and scribbling in a Moleskine. When he looked up, his blue eyes brightened at the sight of Arthur. "I was starting to think you weren't going to show."

"Flight got delayed," Arthur replied, sliding into the seat across from him. "I would have thought you'd be in New York, trying to make it on the Broadway stage."

Robert smirked. "No, not yet. I bombed my first few auditions, so I'm taking a little bit of time to perform in smaller settings whilst taking some acting classes. I never really thought I'd get the opportunity, so I guess I choked when it was laid out before me. Plus, I didn't exactly have any experience. I'm doing some singing in bars right now."

"Well, I can't imagine you're hurting for money too badly," Arthur said, nodding at the waiter who came by and ordering a beer.

"No," Robert laughed lightly. "I suppose not. Dad didn't get the opportunity to change his will, so the money and company was left to me. I gave the company to Uncle Peter, but I kept a good portion of the cash for myself."

"If Browning's running the company now—legally, I should hope—who's running Fischer-Morrow?" Arthur asked curiously.

"Mal is, of course," Robert replied. "It's shifting its focus now that she's the head though. It's becoming an art school, and it's co-ed. From what I hear, she thought it was time to 'set aside the snooty traditional standards' or something like that. I think it'll do just fine. Yusuf's actually excited to go back there since he's so popular now. Everyone looks up to him for being your friend, you know? You're a hero."

Arthur shook his head, accepting his beer and taking a sip before speaking. "I'm not a hero at all. I'm just some stupid asshole who got lucky."

"Yeah, well, because of your lucky ass a lot of people are still alive, myself included. That sounds pretty heroic to me, even if it wasn't on purpose."

"It's not always a hero that does heroic things," Arthur responded, shrugging, "and, in any sense, if Eames hadn't rescued me, I'd just be one of the dead agents. Everything would have progressed without me."

"No one would have even known where to look if it weren't for you."

Arthur took a long swig of his beer. "Maybe."

"So. Eames. Have you talked to him?"

"I've barely had time to sleep," Arthur sighed. "I don't even know where he is now. He might have a handsome boyfriend by now. I mean, I didn't even get to say goodbye to him back at the school, so it isn't hard to see why he'd be done with me."

"Surely you could find him if you really wanted to. You have access to all that… agent stuff."

" _Had_ access. I quit as soon as this whole mess was over. I've been regular, uninteresting Arthur for about two weeks now."

"You didn't bother to look him up before you left?"

Arthur looked down at the tabletop, sighing again. "It's like I said. There's not really a point. I'm sure he's moved on by now."

"But… you're in love with him."

"Yeah, I am, but that doesn't mean he was ever in love with me."

Robert's gaze drifted away from Arthur's for a moment and then slid back. "I've got to perform now. Stay. Watch."

"I haven't got anything else to do," Arthur said, offering a smile.

Robert grinned back and made his way to the piano, and Arthur watched as he fell into song. " _Taking over this town, they should worry, but these problems aside I think I taught you well… that we won't run, and we won't run, and we won't run…_ "

Arthur sat back, letting the music wash over him for a moment, gazing distantly into the images conjured by the song. It seemed that everything reminded him of Eames these days.

" _And in the winter night sky ships are sailing, looking down on these bright blue city lights… and they won't wait, and they won't wait, and they won't wait…_ "

"Pardon, is this seat taken?"

God, people were even starting to sound like Eames.

" _We're here to stay, we're here to stay, we're here to stay_."

Arthur turned to explain to the patron that the pianist was actually sitting here when he wasn't playing but all of the words fell quiet on his lips as his eyes captured…

…the absolute ugliest shirt he had ever seen.

" _Howling ghosts they reappear, in mountains that are stacked with fear, but you're a king and I'm your lion heart… a lion heart_."

"Eames?" Arthur breathed.

It was Eames because he sat down next to Arthur, smiling that familiar toothy smile and said, "I told you I live in London during the summers, didn't I? You really are much more attractive without your glasses, darling."

"How did you… know I was here?" Arthur asked, once again stunned by Eames's presence. It seemed to be becoming a habit of his.

"Who do you think set this up?" Eames chuckled. "I knew Robert could get into contact with you. He has the money and the resources. I asked him to help me get in touch with you. I thought it would be a nice surprise."

" _His crown lit up as we moved slowly, passed the wondering eyes of the ones we left behind… though far away, though far away, though far away…_ "

"I would have thought you'd be mad at me for leaving you there."

"I knew you had to go."

" _We're still the same, we're still the same, we're still the same…_ "

"But—" Arthur tried, but Eames took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on, love. We have a lot to make up for, don't you think?" Eames said, dragging him out of the bar and into the warm streets again. The sky had turned golden as the sun set in the distance, and Arthur was reminded of just how gorgeous Eames was in this light (and any light really). Even the ridiculous paisley shirt was forgivable in this light.

"Eames, what the hell is going on?" Arthur asked. "I expected you to—"

"Forget about you?" Eames asked, pausing to face Arthur. He traced a finger down the line of Arthur's jaw. "I fought hard enough to get you. I wasn't about to lose you, Arthur."

"I thought that… you wouldn't want someone like me. I'm distant emotionally, and I've gotten myself into danger for the hell of it on more than one occasion. I'm obsessive and I've never been in a relationship with anyone… Even though I'm not working for the agency anymore, there are still people out there who probably want me dead. I'm not a good choice of a mate, you know?"

"Well, that's a bloody shame, because I'm not interested in anyone else."

Arthur exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're unbelievable," he said fondly.

"You haven't even slept with me yet," Eames winked. "I wonder how you'd describe me if we had."

"We can always find out," Arthur offered.

Eames tugged him close by the belt loops, breathing in his scent at this nape. "God, Arthur… I was so worried you wouldn't come or that you would have seen the error of your ways and given up on me. I was so afraid to come here today."

Arthur's hand slid up Eames's back, resting just between his shoulder blades. "I could never give up on you… You saved my life, and not just in the physical sense… Without you, Eames, I might have never stopped. I would have kept pushing and pushing until eventually I got myself killed. I don't want to live that way, Eames. I don't want to keep running away from my loneliness. I would be… I would be so happy even if I was just waking up next to you and having cereal for breakfast and reading the paper. I would love to just go buy groceries with you and go see movies and sit in coffee shops and talk for hours on end. I want to fall into bed with you at night and take showers with you and learn way more about you than strictly necessary. I want to see you clip your toenails and burn eggs and bump your hip on the dresser. I want all of that mundane, normal stuff, Eames. All of it."

"You won't get bored of me?" Eames asked.

Arthur shook his head. "No, I won't… because all of the excitement, the danger, the trouncing around the globe… It doesn't mean anything if I don't have you by my side. With you, I just… I know it'll be good—it'll be _great_ , even. Every day will be an adventure. It's just a feeling I have, and that feeling has never led me astray before."

It was the most honest Arthur had ever been, and it felt fantastic. If Eames's smile was any indication, he felt the same way.

"You are a bloody wonder," Eames said.

"You haven't even slept with me yet," Arthur teased and pulled Eames in for a lingering kiss. It felt just as thrilling and warm as it had the first time, but with it came a sweet tenderness that Arthur could only describe as _like coming home_. He'd never really had a home, even though he had apartments and houses all over the planet (and he still had a couple of them—his last paycheck had been, for lack of a better word, _impressive_ ), but here with Eames, Arthur knew that he'd finally found it.

"I want to do this properly and take things slow," Eames said against Arthur's mouth, sliding a hand through Arthur's hair. "What say I take you out to dinner?"

"Dinner would be lovely."

* * *

Arthur appreciated Eames's reluctance in order to do right by Arthur who had never been in a relationship, but it was painfully obvious by the time they were halfway through their second glasses of wine that slow wasn't necessarily their style. Before the main course had even arrived they had become one of those annoying couples sitting too close to one another and playing footsy under the table. While waiting on the dessert they ended up having a rather intense make-out session just outside the bathroom, and Arthur adored every second of it.

Honestly, the excitement Eames caused Arthur to feel was so much better than any thrill he'd ever experienced on the job or anywhere else. If that was a sign of how things were going to go from here on out Arthur had a feeling neither of them had anything to worry about.

Once dinner was over, they stumbled back down the London streets until they reached Eames's apartment a few blocks over. It was every bit as odd as the man himself, and Arthur had a feeling that more than a few of the pieces of furniture inside belonged to the same grandmother who had left him the strange couch in his office back at Fischer-Morrow. He didn't get too good a look at it since Eames was on him almost instantly, licking into his mouth until Arthur was breathless.

They toppled into bed together that night, and Eames sucked Arthur's cock until he came with a cry, and then he fucked Arthur with his fingers, slow and languid until he came a second time. Arthur rode Eames's cock until he experienced a glorious third orgasm, and then he was absolutely spent. He collapsed onto Eames's chest, sweaty and sticky and sated, over-stimulated and exhausted. Eames pet his hair and kissed his damp temple and pulled the covers up around them both.

"Eames, I love you," Arthur said quietly.

"I know, darling. I love you too," Eames said.

Arthur smiled sleepily and almost drifted off when he remembered he was still covered in his own come and sweat. "Shower," he demanded.

They bathed together, just like Arthur had said he wanted, Arthur leaning against Eames in the tub, and Arthur told Eames that he loved him again. He just couldn't get tired of saying it.

When he awoke the next morning, he could smell breakfast cooking, and he slipped into the first article of clothing he could find on the floor—Eames's terrible shirt. As he wandered into the kitchen, Eames smiled at him, placing an absolutely beautiful omelet onto a plate.

"I'm afraid there won't be egg burning from me," Eames said. "It turns out I'm a decent cook."

"You were reuniting with me for the first time in months, and you decided on this shirt?"

Eames's smile in response was warm and affectionate. "I know. It's awful, isn't it? I suppose I wanted to wear something you would desperately want to take off of me."

"So much for taking it slow," Arthur snorted, accepting the omelet and settling into a spot at Eames's table.

Eames shrugged, cracking a few more eggs into the pan to make his own breakfast. "Yes, well, bollocks on that. We're both adults here. We can take things at whatever pace we want. We've got the whole rest of our lives to take things slow. Seize the day and all that."

Arthur rolled his eyes, forking a bite of the omelet into his mouth. "Seize the day," he said softly. "Grab it with both hands and never let go."

"Yes, well," Eames said, smiling at Arthur over his shoulder, "as long as you've got something worth holding onto."

Arthur swallowed, a corner of his mouth quirking up as he started cutting his breakfast into smaller pieces. A few minutes later, Eames joined him at the table, and Arthur ate, conversed, and went back to bed for the day.

It was so ridiculously domestic, so completely _normal_ that the Arthur he'd been a year ago would have vomited… and yet he wasn't bored at all. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd never felt so happy in his entire life. Considering he'd never allowed himself to have downtime in the past, he fell into it surprisingly easy, though he imagined having Eames helped when it came to breaking down those walls.

Slowing down was the best thing Arthur had ever done with his life, and he knew that the next days would be worth looking forward to. He'd still keep up his martial arts and his firearms training just in case anyone was to come after them.

He was out of the agency though, and he was never going back. His future with Eames was stretched out before him, and he wasn't about to miss a second of it.

It was about time he stopped to enjoy the scenery.

_And as the world comes to an end_

_I'll be there to hold your hand._


End file.
